


respiro dei giorni miei d’amore

by NoHappyEnding



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:10:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9172846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoHappyEnding/pseuds/NoHappyEnding
Summary: Was trust too much to ask for?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to apologise deeply to all of the Mods. They were so kind and understanding of my circumstances. They really deserve much love and appreciation! Also, to my dear prompter, I hope that this rushed piece may somehow satisfy you! Thank you to everyone involved in making this possible!

 

January 27th, 2016 ー

Untitled

Entry One

 

People say love is many things. Love is patient, love is kind. Love is indulging, love is forgiving. Love is a morning glory dripping drops of dew from its petals at dawn in spring. Love is the bright shooting star soaring across the night sky and crossing paths with various constellations. Yes, love is many things; I do agree. But people never mention that love is also pain, that love is agony. Love is the feeling of having your very own heart gorily ripped from your chest and trodden upon. Love is the downpour of a boisterous, thundering rainstorm releasing its wrath at ungodly hours of the night.

 

Everyone’s definition of love is unique, based on their personal experiences with it.

 

Where love is a blinding smile radiantly painted on one’s mouth, it is also the streaks of tears running rampant down another’s face.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

141130

 

“This dancing around each other has been going on for way too long, Kyungsoo! Why don’t you just ask him out?”

 

Chanyeol, winner of the Worst Best Friend Medal, complains to his annoyed companion. As the self-proclaimed president of the KaiSoo Shipper Association, he believes he has every right to protest and urge Kyungsoo to finally make a move.

 

“Seriously, if you won’t do it someone else might swoop in and take the kill. You know very well that Oh Sehun has had his eyes on him for a while now.”

 

It’s not a lie, the underclassman has indeed been pining after his fellow dance major since the two of them were freshmen in the fall. But Kyungsoo is definitely convinced he deserves him more, having to deal with his own emotions much longer.

 

“Look, it’s not that easy. We’ve known each other since forever, and I couldn’t bear to ruin it by unveiling this huge truth that ‘Hey, Jongin! I’ve been in love with you for years and I would love to kiss you sometime! How about you?’ It simply does not work like that, Fuckyeol.”

 

He looks up from the salad he’s been picking around and stabbing with murderous intent. The idiot isn’t even looking at him, just staring off into the space right past him.

 

“Hello? How many times have I asked you to actually pay attention to what I’m saying?”

 

Kyungsoo glares at his best friend and mentally threatens to poke him with his fork.

 

“Why am I even friends with you, you di-”

 

“Kyungsoo?”

 

That’s when Chanyeol actually decides to look at him, and with all the dread of the universe spilling into his soul, Kyungsoo takes it upon himself to engage the two of them in a conversation through facial expressions and intense lip reading.

 

“It’s him isn’t it,” Kyungsoo mouths as his eyes go wide.

 

“Really? Do you need to ask? You know his voice better than anyone else. You share a room with him!”

 

“I’m condemned, aren’t I?” And the college sophomore can feel the thrumming in his chest accelerating to a speed of 520 beats per minute.

 

Chanyeol regards him with honor, a hand on his chest.

 

“Go now, it’s time,” he fake cries and dramatically flings the imaginary tears away, speaking as if he were some wise Grand Master.

 

A throat clears and recaptures their attention. As much as Kyungsoo fears him in this instant, Jongin is still there.

 

“Shityeol, do you mind if I have a moment alone with Soo?”

 

Chanyeol proceeds to fall from his chair and sputter at the use of such a vulgar nickname coming from such an innocent tongue. Kyungsoo sure has been rubbing off on him.

 

When the giant finally removes himself from the scene - only to go off to the side and happily mark this day with a ready Polaroid camera and cute sticky notes in The Chronicles of KaiSoo by PCY - the two sit side by side in an awkward silence. It is a new, unfamiliar occurrence. After being attached to the hip since Jongin’s first year of high school, they can almost always find some topic of conversation. Whatever lack of noise between them was comfortable and hardly ever tense.

 

When Jongin opens his mouth, Kyungsoo is terrified half to death. Just how much did he hear from earlier?

 

“Did you mean what you said?”

 

All the blood runs cold in the older’s veins as he plays dumb.

 

“What? What did I say? Nini, you must be losing your mind, right? I didn’t say anything!”

 

His eyes dart around nervously, and his actions serve as a clear contradiction to his words.

 

Jongin’s face falls somber.

 

“I heard what you told Chanyeol. I want to know if it’s true,” he sighs out with a tone of anxiety.

 

The silence returns, but Jongin waits patiently. He can tell he has something itching to get out, the older showing all his usual symptoms of restlessness. His forefingers tap furiously against the denim of his jeans, he blinks twice every few seconds, and there’s a continuous noise of his molars grinding and wearing another down. Even with him, Kyungsoo was never openly willing to share some of his deepest thoughts, so Jongin gives him time.

 

In fact, Jongin has given him time since he first had the inkling that the older may reciprocate his own intense feelings of affection. Trying to wait for Kyungsoo to come to terms with his first love was proving to be a big challenge, even worse than when the boy was a 15 year old teenager with major identity issues and accepting the fact that he was gay. As much as _Kai’s_ fangirls wanted to believe him to be straight, Jongin himself had known since the day he chanced upon Kyungsoo that he was whipped right away. It was love at first sight.

 

But Jongin is done waiting around idly. It’s been years now, and he’s pretty sure that the “confession” Kyungsoo slipped in his conversation with their best friend wasn’t entirely fake.

 

“Please. I need to know.”

 

Kyungsoo takes in a shaky breath, his hands trembling just the same. This was the moment he would stop being so scared. He’s not blind to all the subtle moves Jongin tries on him, how longingly the boy stares at him whether they're squished up against each other at the lunch table or at opposite corners of the room. Kyungsoo has been more than ready to take whatever their relationship is a step further and make it official. All that was needed is a push, and perhaps his indirect proclamation of love was the key.

 

“Okay, Jongin. I’ll tell you.”

 

“Oh, thank G-”

 

“No, wait. Don’t say anything. I need you to listen to me, okay? No matter what I say, I hope that we will always be together as friends at the very least. You are my support pillar, and I am yours. We can’t give that up for some measly feelings, right? So regardless of how things turn out, you better not leave me alone.”

 

He sighs deeply, unlocking the most hidden treasure in his chest.

 

“Kim Jongin, I love you.”

 

The tears were swelling in Jongin’s eyes before Kyungsoo even mentioned loving him.

 

“I love you, and I have loved you since we spent both of our junior proms together at your house because the idea of dancing with some girl when we’re gay isn’t so flattering. I have loved you since the day you showed at my doorstep soaking wet with tears in your eyes and you didn’t know why but you were so sad. I have loved you since Chanyeol and Baekhyun offered to take us in together and we awkwardly stumbled over words to accept. I have loved you since I learned that you hate the bitter taste of coffee on your tongue, or that your dorky self put nail polish on your lips thinking it was lip gloss, or that you call your precious puppies your children and give them all the care any parent would. I have loved you for so long, and I hope I’m not wrong about you loving me back, because man, would that be awkward.”

 

When Kyungsoo finally stops to regain his breath, a weight has been lifted from the baggage he bears. He loosens his merciless grip on the bench to help the blood flow back to his brain. The suffocation of holding in such fierce feelings of love was beginning to wrap itself in vines around Kyungsoo’s heart accordingly, but at last he is free. The heart of his lips forms before he can even register what is going on.

 

Kyungsoo is so caught up in the happiness of doing his love justice that he doesn’t realise Jongin is crying until a sob catches in the younger’s throat.

 

“Jongin? What’s wrong?” He misreads the situation, thinking that this is a rejection. The bile begins to rise from his stomach, and Kyungsoo is seconds away from hurling at the horrible ordeal of messing up their friendship forever.

 

“Wrong? Nothing is wrong!” Jongin exclaims cheerfully with a laugh through tears.

 

Now Kyungsoo is confused.

 

“To be quite honest, I’m not really following you.”

 

“Don’t you get it, Soo? I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you.”

 

He blinks. Once, twice, three times.

 

“I still don’t understand?”

 

Exasperated, Jongin throws up his arms.

 

“Do Kyungsoo! Is that how you answer someone who has just confessed their undying love to you?”

 

“But you were crying?”

 

“You’re hopeless, silly,” and Jongin playfully huffs with traces of elation in his breath.

 

“Happiness. Ever heard of crying tears of joy?”

 

All Kyungsoo can mutter in the midst of processing that Jongin loves him - _holy cheese nuts -_ is a pathetic, “Oh.”

 

“‘Oh’ is right,” Jongin glows, appearing five times more beautiful in Kyungsoo’s eyes with the knowledge of his returned love.

 

The two intertwine their fingers, relishing in the moment and cherishing that they’re finally official.

 

The snap from behind the bushes captures their very first time holding hands as a couple.

 

“Such cuties they are. I can’t wait to tell my precious Baek Bean.”

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

141225

 

The apartment is quiet, save for soft snores vibrating in the air. A pair of boys embrace each other under thick covers, savoring each other’s body heat that will have to make do in place of the broken ventilator. The winter frost is unforgiving, but the two find solace in sleepy afternoons spent cuddling up against one another.

 

A light, fluffy aroma wafts in from the small kitchen a room or two away from the bed. The cookies on the cooling rack stand crisp, but no longer scalding. The oven is off, but a comforting incandescent warmth emanates from it. Later will the couple invite a third and fourth party to bask in its consolation.

 

The pseudo evergreen in the far corner of the living room is sprinkled in sparkling scarlet spheres while a silver spiral of garland serpents around it. It is decorated traditionally with golden strands of lights and a star radiating luminescence at its peak. Under its arms are no more than twelve gifts wrapped in two variations of paper: a pattern of striped monotone variations against a white backdrop for the more classy of the quartet and an eccentric, electric blue in splotches for... let’s say the more artistically creative personas. The presents sit perfectly straight in the nest, waiting to be hatched in the better part of the evening.

 

To the minimalistic pair, this is the perfect way to spend the holiday.

 

That is, until a certain someone decides to barge in before his invitation via text was sent.

 

“Rise and shine, sleepy heads!”

 

Of all scenes to ruin, Park Chanyeol chooses the epitome of serenity and peace as the lucky winner.

 

His booming voice successfully wakes them up, but it does much more than that. They end up sprawled all over the ground, each one rolling off “their side” of the bed respectively.

 

“Oh my shit, you fucker. Get out of here!” Kyungsoo rasps from his unnatural position on the floor. “My neck is tired of your childish antics!”

 

A whine escapes Jongin’s lips from the opposite end.

 

“My baby!”

 

Ever the worried mother boyfriend, Kyungsoo gasps and presses his face to the wooden flooring, uncaring of the bacteria making its way into his pores. He peers at the boy curled up in fetal position from his his own spot.

 

“Jonginnie, baby, are you okay? How is your back? Do we need to put the heat packs on it?” His mouth rocketing questions to his younger lover from under the bed.

 

Yes, the scene could be considered comically amusing if Chanyeol’s sticky situation couldn’t end up being fight or flight type of thing. Right now, his life was on the line, considering he just rocked the boat and the man of the ship was Captain Do.

 

After reassurance from Jongin, Kyungsoo slowly moves to stand up. He glowers at Chanyeol as he takes Jongin’s hand and leads him to the main room.

 

“I’m giving you five seconds to get out of our apartment before I skin you to death.”

 

“But, Soo! You’re forgetting that I also live here and I’m the one with a job. You need me to pay the rent!”

 

“Five.”

 

“Come on!”

 

“Four.”

 

“It’s Christmas!”

 

“Three.”

 

“Damn it, Kyungsoo.”

 

“Two.”

 

“Fine! I’ll go!”

 

“One. Time’s up, and you’re still he-”

 

Kyungsoo never does get to finish his sentence, because guess who makes just as dramatic an entrance as his boyfriend? That's right, none other than Byun Baekhyun.

 

“Alright, let’s get this party started! I brought the alcohol for myself and Yeol,” he winks chivalrously. “And here is a gallon of apple juice for you two,” the little devil smirks and presents said jug on the counter.

 

“Shut up, won’t you?” Kyungsoo growls, still upset for practically being tossed from the bed five minutes prior.

 

“It’s the price to pay when you guys don’t bring home the dough.”

 

“Who even invited you? Both of you just barged in without warning. We were going to text you about it, but I think that the offer should be revoked,” he scowls and fists his hair in frustration - all he wanted was another hour of rest and relaxation.

 

“Quick reminder, Soo. They’ve been living here since we were still in high school,” Mr. Empathy (also known as Kim Jongin) sides with the other couple.

 

The reactions of the trio vary, but it generally goes like this:

 

“I knew you had it in you, Jongin. I knew you were better than that monster!” Chanyeol pretends to sob out, getting on his knees to say,”All hail King Kim, redeemer of us all!”

 

Baekhyun, slightly more mature than his significant other, claps the youngest on the back. “There you go again, standing up for us lowly souls to your dictator of a boyfriend. You truly are an angel sent from Heaven.”

 

While Jongin smiles back politely, he can’t help but feel the guilt in his pure heart when he sees Kyungsoo with his mouth gaping and eyes bulging.

 

“You traitor! I trusted you!” He wails, throwing his hands up.

 

“I’m sorry, Kyungie. You know it’s the truth,” Jongin pouts, slinking over to encircle the other’s waist in his arms.

 

“Why did I fall in love with such perfection like yourself? You’re so breathtaking,” Kyungsoo gazes into his eyes with awe and adoration.

 

“Oh my shit, gross. Get a room!”

 

This time it’s Jongin who scoffs and narrows his eyes at Baekhyun.

 

“We _were_ in our room until your fucker of an idiot boyfriend interrupted us.”

 

Evidently, the Kyungsoo Effect has taken its toll on Jongin and everyone’s jaws drop in horror.

 

“What, I can’t be sarcastic for once?”

 

The rest of them nervously laugh it off and dismiss the matter as a whole.

 

“Say, why don’t we head on over to feast on some delectable cookies?” Chanyeol offers, chuckling with a grimace on display.

 

“Sure, old pal! That sounds great! Let’s go, Baekhyun, my buddy.”

 

And with that Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, and Baekhyun twitch anxiously to remove themselves from Kim Jongin’s newfound wrath.

 

Jongin grins in satisfaction, giving himself a thumbs up. His voice is sweet when he motivates himself, “Good job, Nini! You’re a champ!”

 

Hours later, the four of them sit huddled in a semi-circle around the Christmas tree with their corresponding boxes.

 

“I swear if one of you kinky bastards slipped something nasty in Jongin’s gift, I’m refunding it, keeping the money, and shaving your heads in your sleep.”

 

Baekhyun jeers, “Please, we learned that your threats are empty last year when we gave you that pretty pink dildo.”

 

“By the way, thanks for throwing it out. That was top quality shit that cost me my life,” the tallest of them spits.

 

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and redirects the conversation to the matter at hand.

 

“I’m watching my baby open his presents, shut up.”

 

Jongin’s eyes dart up to Kyungsoo’s when he gets caught red-handed for shaking the vessel to get a hint of the contents inside.

 

“You’re so adorable, I love you.”

 

The younger blushes and returns the phrase.

 

Baekhyun gags, “When will you guys ever stop being so cheesy?”

 

“When will you guys ever stop being so immature?”

 

“Touche,” Chanyeol chuckles.

 

Baekhyun huffs.

 

“Anyways, Jongin! Open mine first! You’re going to love it,” Baekhyun begs like a puppy whining for its owner.

 

“No, don’t listen to him, open mine!”

 

“Mine!”

 

“Mine!”

 

A chorus of ‘mine’s occupy the room and Jongin is reminded of the pelicans from Finding Nemo. He laughs in glee and the bickering stops.

 

“Such precious!”

 

“Such angel!”

 

The two eldest clasp their hands together to their chest and hearts appear in their eyes.

 

“Such boyfriend,” Kyungsoo glares deadly at the two and kisses Jongin on the cheek. “Open mine last so I can show these asses how it’s done, yeah?”

 

He merely nods in confirmation and reaches for Baekhyun’s gift. Said boy continues to mock his lover in victory.

 

The box itself is small, but Jongin never cared much for size. When the paper is torn away, a baffled cloud shadows his eyes.

 

“Batteries?” Jongin is grateful, don’t get him wrong, but he doesn’t understand.

 

“Byun Baekhyun, of all things you could have given the personification of Heaven, you gave him batteries? I am trying so hard not to slap you upside the head,” Kyungsoo seethes in disbelief.

 

Baekhyun merely shrugs as Jongin thanks him with a grin and moves on to Chanyeol’s present.

 

It’s a robotic dog. That requires AA batteries.

 

Oh.

 

“Thank you so much, guys! I love you both so dearly, I’m so lucky to have you in my life beside me. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Jongin cries, hugging them both by the neck with absolute excitement.

 

“Can I open it, Soo? Please, please?”

 

“It’s yours, why are you asking for my permission?” Kyungsoo smiles fondly. “But I would like it if you would open mine before that.”

 

“Of course, how could I not?”

 

This time the gift isn’t tiny like Baekhyun’s or bulky like Chanyeol’s. It’s got a mediocre look to it, fitting to Kyungsoo’s personality and Jongin’s interests. Once the casing is flung away, a sleek black box stands uncovered. Its sides are naked but for a glossy shine. The only abnormality is the metal plaque on the lid making a statement with the phrase “Write to free the soul.”

 

Jongin drags his fingertips over the embossed symbols, memorizing every dip and curve.

 

Then removing the top, uncovers three leather-bound journals, complete with the authentic smell. Two of them have words engraved in silver on the front. One’s message is “For My Love” and the other is “Of Our Love”. Upon surfing through the first few pages, Jongin finds that the first one is full of Kyungsoo’s thoughts of, about, and to him. The second, he assumes, is for their story to come.

 

“I know how much you adore words and cherish their meaning, even going as far to double-major in literature and dance. You speak your mind through graphite lead and blue college ruled lines. Writing is your outlet, and I wanted to give you the depths of my heart in the form of it. Although I’m not eloquent like you, I gave the first two a purpose. But you are unrestrained with what you choose to fill the last one with. It is yours in every sense of the word.”

 

Kyungsoo takes his hand, grazing his palm with the pad of his thumb.

 

“It’s not the greatest present ever, but I put all the sincerity of the world into it.”

 

Jongin is silent, but his eyes communicate every ounce of gratitude, joy, and love he feels in that moment.

 

“Thank you, Soo. It’s the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received,” he leans in to press a chaste kiss to the lips.

 

The tranquil ordeal is interrupted however, when Chanyeol’s outburst makes itself known.

 

“Excuse you, Baekhyun and I spent hours contemplating the dog or a bucket of chicken!”

 

And for the second time that day, Kim Jongin glowers at his best friend and sends all three of his companions to grovel in submission.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

January 27th, 2016 ー

Untitled

Entry Two

 

Why isn’t heartbreak treated as an injury?

 

Why are there established institutions for physical pain when emotional afflictions deal a colder hand? A majority of people are blind to the standing difference between them, simply sending potential victims to psychiatric wards clustered with doctors and nurses alike who couldn’t care less. Where a fractured bone or a busted lip heals quickly with the assistance of casts or stitches, internal trauma cannot be pampered back to perfection with an adhesive bandage. It isn’t that easy to mend a broken heart. Depending on the severity of the damage, the body will restore itself back to health at some point, be it sooner or later. Yes, the same may be said in regards to one suffering the after effects of a messy breakup, but that kind of ail plants itself inside you forever. When that person desires to restart with someone new, the familiar feeling will linger in the deepest recesses of their soul, making a harp out of their heartstrings to play gut wrenching melodies.

 

Surely, a case of heartbreak should be catered to as any other physical harm would.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

150113

 

Kyungsoo had always loved the culinary arts. Jongin, not so much. However, today was an important day that required such obstacles if he was going to pull this stunt off.

 

It is January 13, the day in between the couple’s birthdays.

 

Since high school there was a silent agreement known to all those in their social circles: Kim Jongin and Do Kyungsoo always celebrate together. Kyungsoo waits until the day after to receive congratulations, and Jongin accepts them a day earlier. That’s the way it should be, and that’s the way it has been. So it’s only common sense that it’s the way it will be. It’s only fate that none of them had classes that day.

 

“No, no, no!” A mess of a boy curses at his own hands and burns the recipe book with the lasers in his eyes. “This is hopeless, Jongin. You need to stop. Like right now.”

 

On the granite counter stands a perfectly imperfect structure one might think a cake to be. At least, that’s what Jongin hopes Kyungsoo will see. With luck, the morning haze will fog his mind and his vision will be too blurry for him to care.

 

Huffing, Jongin reprimands himself, “But you can’t give up at this point. All there’s left to do is give it to him. Remember your purpose. What are you doing this for? Who are you doing this for?”

 

Something one should need to know is that Jongin, sweetheart Jongin, isn’t your typical boy-next-door. You can’t simply trapeze around town and by some chance waltz across a personality like him. No, it doesn’t work like that. Kim Jongin is a special one, and he is definitely a keeper.

 

While Kyungsoo does love to baby him and worship the ground he steps on, Jongin is by all means an independent individual. He is strong enough to hold himself together in times of crisis and chaos. From high fiving his own hand to delivering inspirational pep talks to his own reflection, he knows exactly how to handle anything that comes his way.

 

In an interview, Jongin would probably say that aside from love itself, mutual trust is the most fundamental asset to a healthy and prosperous relationship. It is honesty which he values above anything else. He will offer himself in all ways only if there is an established understanding where no lies, no fibs, and no false sayings are involved. He will sacrifice so much, but only if there is trust.

 

There isn’t ever anything to hide in their relationship. Phones are left unlocked and on an open table with no second thought, any suspicious meetings are clarified the moment they are planned. They even have routine conversations about their day at night, always wanting to share feelings and happenings in their everyday expeditions. Because there is that connection, Kyungsoo and Jongin love harder than any other two you could meet.

 

Maybe it’s also for that reason that the younger of them finds himself in a sticky predicament - quite literally.

 

“Gel icing is not happening again. I swear, Do Kyungsoo, you better appreciate this because it is not ha-”

 

“Hey, love. Appreciate what?” A voice takes his attention as its owner crosses the hallway to the kitchen.

 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Jongin stammers under his breath.

 

He wrestles with the idea of using sprinkles to glam up the overall presentation of his disastrous delicacy, but with rapid speed decides that even if he were to cast jewels upon its frosting, nothing could possibly get it to taste halfway decent. All he can do is step away in defeat and watch as the scene plays out - preferably with no puking of guts in the repertoire of further occurrences.

 

Jongin chuckles apprehensively, very conscious of the monstrosity behind his back. “Hey, Soo! What a fine day it is, isn’t it? Sun is up, birds are chirping, it’s our birthday!”

 

“You’re very cute, and it is our birthday,” Kyungsoo nods approvingly. “But when is the last time you got your hearing and vision checked? It’s storming outside.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

From the corner of his eye, Jongin can see that indeed there are gray skies and lightning bolts. “Well, stick a pipe up my ass, why don’t you,” he chides whatever god is controlling fate that day.

 

“Yes, you little sunflower,” Kyungsoo cooes, coming over to throw his arms around his waist. Of course, he is oblivious to the inner turmoil in Jongin’s mind as he reaches behind him an-

 

“Hey, Kyungie! Why don’t you go upstairs and get ready! I was thinking of having a picnic in the park,” Jongin gently declines Kyungsoo’s advances, pushing his limbs off his hips.

 

In suspicion, the shorter purses his lips together and narrows his eyes.

 

“I don’t usually play detective, but you’re hiding something. Plus, there’s no way you want to go picnicking. I told you already, we’d be drenched! What are you trying to cover up?”

 

With a sigh of defeat, Jongin pulls his last trick: pity.

 

“I’m sorry, Soo. I didn’t mean to hide it from you, but it’s so bad. I don’t think you’ll like it. I almost died earlier, I swear. Soo, don’t hate me please!” He wails with globs of tears plopping onto the ground.

 

Kyungsoo is taken aback.

 

“Baby, what? What are you talking about? Are you okay? What are you saying, you almost died?”

 

The devil in Jongin’s heart smirks, “All according to plan.”

 

He runs into Kyungsoo’s strong hold and wails into his chest. A few hiccups are added for extra sympathy and a cuteness factor.

 

“I tried baking a cake for you,” cue pouty eyes, “but I couldn’t do it! It tastes so bad, you’re going to hate me for poisoning you! I didn’t mean to, I just really suck at anything food-related besides eating! I love you too much to deliberately kill you off!”

 

A gentle chortle pushes past his false breakdown. “Aw, baby! That’s why you’re crying so hard?”

 

Jongin nods, lip jutted impossibly far out.

 

Line cast, bait taken. Mission accomplished.

 

“Well, I don’t care what it tastes like. If you put your heart into this, I’m not letting the chance to get a sample of it slip,” Kyungsoo smiles reassuringly and nuzzles his face into Jongin’s neck. “Besides, I love you too much to leave because I died by the hands of a birthday cake gone wrong.”

 

“What a smooth talker.”

 

“Only for you, baby,” Kyungsoo winks suggestively.

 

“Oh, I know that look.”

 

“I know you do.”

 

“What do you say, we put this cake to some better use?” Jongin purrs with a lewd expression in his eyes no one but Kyungsoo knew existed. Chanyeol and Baekhyun would pass out if they knew what engaging sexual activities took place on kitchen counters with kitchen appliances during their work hours. No one would imagine it, but Jongin was the kinky type.

 

“I say,” Kyungsoo trails a hand down to his lover’s growing arousal and squeezes, “have at it.”

 

Jongin mewls perversely and pounces on the other.

 

It sure is fortunate that the two of the older couple are occupied, for walking into the christening of their coffee table with the assistance of cake and other baking essentials would have scarred them for good.

 

The remainder of the day comes in marathoning Glee with popcorn at close reach. Having been spent from their rigorous physicality earlier, they can only sigh into each other’s clutches as Kurt deliberately jacks the high F in Defying Gravity, giving Rachel Berry the solo she _so earnestly_ deserved. Doesn't hurt any less than the first time watching it.

 

“Poor Kurt.”

 

“You’re right.”

 

Sigh.

 

“Happy birthday to us,” Kyungsoo whispers, nodding off to some angelic melody playing in the background.

 

“Happy birthday to us,” Jongin repeats, falling asleep to the sight of a beautifully wrecked Do Kyungsoo in his lap.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

150214

 

“Alright, we’re headed out now!” Baekhyun yakked from the door, dragging Chanyeol by the wrist behind him. “Have fun,” he chirps with his eyebrows raised suggestively high.

 

The front door slams and immediately Jongin rolls from his side of the bed onto Kyungsoo’s chest, a determined glint in his eyes.

 

“Okay, now that we’ve gotten those two rascals out of the way, why don’t we have a bit of Valentine’s fun ourselves?” His smile radiates innocence as he snuggles into his lover’s chest. “I heard they’re playing Beethoven at the park later tonight. Maybe I can take you on a picnic for real this time.”

 

Kyungsoo shifts one hand to pillow his head as the other strokes Jongin’s locks mindlessly. Gazing down at the younger, he frowns. “I don’t mean to crush your picnic fantasy again, but I was hoping we could do something else today. I kind of might have already planned the whole thing out,” he explains regretfully, watching the excitement in Jongin’s face deflate like a balloon. Nevertheless, he recognizes the appreciation and knows they’re alright.

 

“Of course, Soo. I’m up for anything as long as I’m with you.”

 

It’s funny how they can almost hear Baekhyun gagging from how romantically corny they are.

 

“Can I tell you a story?”

 

Instantly, Jongin brightens up. He nods his head vigorously, obviously anticipating what Kyungsoo had in mind.

 

“Once upon a time, there-”

 

“No.”

 

Taken aback by the harsh rejection of his tale, Kyungsoo stares quizzically down at Jongin.

 

“Um, okay? I guess no story time for us then…”

 

“No, I didn’t mean to stop you. Just please don’t pull that ‘once upon a time’ gag. As an aspiring writer, the phrase physically hurts me.”

 

One blink.

 

Two blinks.

 

A sigh of relief.

 

“Okay, okay, baby. No more overused, overrated opening lines for me,” he rolls his eyes playfully and bonks the bridge of Jongin’s nose with his finger. “No more interrupting,” and he half-glares at the boy atop him.

 

“Oh Sehun, Do Kyungsoo, a hallway full of students, and a Polaroid camera. Picture it in your mind.”

 

Baffled, Jongin tilts his head to the side and stretches to question the elder.

 

“Oh Sehun? You know him? He's a freshman like me.”

 

“Let me tell you something, Nini. He and I are _very well_ acquainted.”

 

“Okay then...,” Jongin trails, unsure of what to make of the elusive statement.

 

“Anyways, I want you to close your eyes and imagine it all.

 

On this particular winter day I was especially irritable, given the fact Chanyeol pulled the plug to my alarm clock as payback for finishing his last applesauce cup - I’m sure you remember that. I was late to class by half an hour and the professor threatened to slash my grade down a letter. Absolutely mortified, I stormed the entire two miles of icy bricks and biting wind across campus to the fine arts building to find a certain dipshit.

 

As soon as I found my insufferable victim, another crossed my path: Oh Sehun.

 

The original plan was to obliterate everything that is Park Chanyeol and throw his remains into the dumpsters behind the school, but I figured I could kill two birds with one stone.

 

You may think I’m being dramatic, but trust me. This was a serious clusterfuck of rage and jealousy and possessiveness.”

 

A sweet giggle halts his narration.

 

“I’m sorry, Soo. I lost you at clusterfuck. What kind of word is that!” Jongin chokes out in between gasps of hilarity.

 

“Baby! I thought we agreed on no interruptions!” Kyungsoo pouts.

 

“Fine, fine! I’m sorry, I’ll calm down now.”

 

“Thank you.

 

As I was saying, when Hoe Sehun met eyes with mine, the tension in the room sprung out of control. We had been longtime enemies and he was out for revenge. Why you ask? Well, you might be as charming as a child sometimes, but I know you're not the least bit oblivious. There’s no way you haven’t seen the way he drools over you when you do a solo for a number. In fact, he’s asked you outright on a date in front of me before we were together. We have been rivals from the very second he stepped onto these grounds and found affection for you. I don’t blame him, who could resist you? But his advances didn’t stop even after we started dating. That, my angel, is where he overstepped a boundary and named himself Victim #2.

 

Like I’ve already mentioned, I was in an especially disgruntled state. As it would turn out, so was he; exhausted both emotionally and physically. Maybe it would have been a good idea to lay off the kid and try to sympathize, but I was merciless. The air was so thick, Chanyeol later told me some kid actually took out a knife and made to slash through it.

 

Back to the point. He and I were fed up and furious with each other. He glared deep into my soul and I spat at him. That’s what blew his top off before he leapt forward and attacked me like a savage tyrant. I took a few well deserved punches before I shoved him into the nearest wall - which by the way should be an incredible feat due to our massive height difference. I jabbed at his face as he tried to push me off.

 

This went on for a few minutes, the going back and forth in circles, fists ready to go. At some point, it got so tiring that we both collapsed. Many onlookers dispersed unsatisfied that we only ended up with minor scratches and not a whole lot of damage but for our scarred prides. Some even went as far as laughing while we simply laid there, basking in the aftermath of what could have been a really great fight if we had actually managed to get a good hit on target. I guess I hyped it up to make myself seem manly, whoops.

 

So there we were, panting heavily on the ground, when Sehun outstretched his arm and said one word, ‘Truce.’

 

I shook on it and smiled.

 

But then there was a flash and a click.

 

Park Chanyeol, that moron fucking captured that instance on his damned Polaroid camera. And as much as he likes to believe we don’t, we all know where those pictures go to. So when he finally decides to give us that book, you’ll know exactly what went on that day.

 

Oh, but don’t worry. Chanyeol got his beating later on,” Kyungsoo concludes, patting the top of Jongin’s head.

 

The silence stuns him. He expected cheers of, “Soo, you’re so valiant! That wretched Oh Sehun could never have me!” All he got was a quiet Jongin in his hold.

 

“Nothing?”

 

“Am I supposed to be thanking you?”

 

“What?”

 

“Did you think I’d be happy that you and Sehun practically got in a brawl over something like this?”

 

“Jongin?”

 

“Kyungsoo, look. I love that you love me so much, but did you have to fight to prove that?”

 

Shocked, Kyungsoo nudges the younger off of him and pulls himself into a sitting position.

 

“Was it really necessary to go off and cause such a commotion when you knew you already had me? Did you need to shove it in his face? Quite literally, might I add!”

 

“You are the token of his affections, you don’t know what he is capable of. He could’ve used his great dancing skills to win you over, because we both are painfully aware of the wet noodle I turn into when I dance. He’s taller than me, younger than me, more talented than me, better looking than me! Don’t you see that you could very well swerve into the wrong lane and end up on Cloud 9, whipped and in love with his tantalizing eyes? I had to do something to tell him to back off!”

 

With bated breaths and widened eyes, Kyungsoo places his hand on his chest, where his heart protests in hasty pulses.

 

“Is that what this is about?” Jongin speaks hushed. “Are you afraid of losing me? Is that what it is?”

 

“If it was, why is it wrong to be worried? You are perfection, anyone would want you.”

 

“But I wouldn’t want just anyone.”

 

It takes that one accusation for Kyungsoo to falter and listen.

 

“Come, here. Reminisce with me,” Jongin whispers and pulls him by the wrist. Their positions are switched from the norm, Kyungsoo’s head resting on his chest while he entangles fingers through his hair.

 

The instant Jongin’s hand scratches his scalp in that soothing motion, Kyungsoo feels all his worries seep from his mind, leaving his soul through a soft moan of comfort.

 

“Do Kyungsoo, it has been forever since we first met. Do you remember the day? Why am I asking, of course you do.”

 

A light chuckle here.

 

“It was a unique way to make friends, but I definitely think it fits us.

 

I was a fish out of water, wandering alone in the hall on the first day of school. It took me forever to get to my locker and open it, then with an added three minutes to walk from there all the way to the freshmen annex, I was actually _running_ late to class. You’d think that the teachers would show some compassion, but no. I felt so alone and abandoned, already hating the muck up of a year that was predestined to be.

 

I was sprinting with my head down, hair shielding the tears that had begun to form at the corners of my eyes, when I crashed into this unidentified being. With all the panic in the world I rushed to dust myself off and apologize because what if it had been the school bully? A hot senior? The principal? In utmost sincerity, I stuck my neck out and glanced up.

 

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

 

There you were in all your glory. You were roasting my guts on a stick in your head, but despite that I couldn’t help but feel this explosion of fireworks. Your hardened stare was so intimidating, yet enticing all the same. I didn’t care who you were or what you thought of me, I knew that I had fallen in love.

 

Approximately five years have passed since then, Soo. Do you know how many days that is? 1,865 days.”

 

“Not to be a smartass or anything, but it’s actually 1,866 because one of those has to be a lightyear.”

 

“Regardless of whether or not there was a February 29th, I have loved you all that time. I am just as smitten with you today as I was when I pummeled into you - probably even more.

 

Why do you need to be worried? I’m never leaving, you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life!”

 

An eruption of laughs echo off the walls as the tense aura slowly fades to nothing.

 

“Fuck, what did I do to deserve you?” Kyungsoo breathes out when he sobers, taking Jongin’s face into his hands. “You really are too good for this world.”

 

“Stop making me blush like a high school girl! One, I’m a man, and two, we’re already in college,” Jongin groans and covers scarlet turned cheeks behind his palms.

 

“I’m only stating the truth.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“But I love you more.”

 

“Wrong, I love you m-”

 

“No you don’t, it’s impossible,” Kyungsoo interjects and starts again before the other has an opening to retort. “We should get ready and start the day now. Romance awaits,” and with that he hops off the bed and bounds off to the shower, but not before landing a nice, clean smack on Jongin’s sweet ass of course.

 

“It’s not nice to use all the hot water before I get a chance,” Jongin hints at some early morning Valentine’s Day action. It wouldn’t be the first time they made love in steam and suds.

 

“It’s not, that’s for sure. Why don’t you put me back in line?”

 

Jongin has to snarkily reply to that. Kyungsoo set himself up for the perfect comeback.

 

“What line? Last time I checked, you were nowhere near straight.”

 

“No more hot water for you! You asked for it!” Kyungsoo teases in mock offense, but leaves a crack in the door nonetheless.

 

Jongin laughs to himself and heads in afterwards.

 

An hour of soapy touching later, both are immaculately spotless and walking out the door, hands tucked together.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“It’s supposed to be a surprise, silly.”

 

“Come on, Soo. I just want to judge if it beats Beethoven.”

 

Kyungsoo hums, mulling it over in his head.

 

“I’m not absolutely certain it will beat the greatest composer of all time, but in my book it doesn’t need to as long as we’re together.”

 

“Maybe Baekhyun is right, we need to lay off the cliché.”

 

“Is that so? Then we should probably turn back now while we can. If there’s something I will disclose to you, it’s that today is guaranteed to be _full_ of clichés.”

 

It is. The day really is jam-packed with cringeworthy cheesiness, but that’s just how Kyungsoo rolls. To Hell with Baekhyun if he has an issue with it - and he shouldn’t. Especially since he played a key role mapping the execution of the event of the night: the promise proposal. Yes, jobless Kyungsoo has somehow scraped together the money to pay for a silver band that will rest on Jongin’s left hand until their engagement. It was a tough feat, and he certainly feels guilty for borrowing from his - surprisingly generous - parents and their group of employed friends, but it will all be worth it when he and Jongin are lounging in the backyard of their cozy home while watching their three dogs chase each other’s tails. Long story short, if Byun Baekhyun had a real problem with them being cliché, he wouldn’t have agreed to blueprinting the itinerary for tonight’s date and acting as its supervisor from afar.

 

“ _Fine_ , since you so diligently planned everything out.”

 

“I won’t disappoint, baby. I swear to you.”

 

The lovebirds continue their walk in silence, drinking in the comfort of the singing wind and a faint sunny sky until a buzz vibrates in Kyungsoo’s back pocket.

 

‘ _Mission is a go,’_ is what he knows Baekhyun typed.

 

Great, let’s get this thing started.

 

“Enough of this mindless frolicking, I want to travel down Memory Lane for a bit.”

 

With a quirk, Jongin hums in curiosity, “What could you mean by that, I wonder?”

 

“Let’s just say it involves a certain oak tree.”

 

A disbelieving gasp kisses Jongin’s lips goodbye.

 

“No way, Soo. Are we really?”

 

“Why would I ever lie to you?”

 

“We’re really going to back? You’re going to be okay?”

 

“Jongin, please. I’m not an out-of-place high school sophomore anymore. I’m over it! Besides, I know how much Oakley meant to you - to us - back then before that happened.”

 

“I’m being serious, Kyungsoo. As much as I relied on Oakley for inspiration and company when you weren’t there, _he’s just a tree_ ,” Jongin sighs, removing his hand and using it to brush back stray strands of hair off his boyfriend’s forehead. His touch lingers a few seconds after before he retreats and scrutinizes his reflection in Kyungsoo’s eyes. Yes, he would absolutely love to revisit his own Giving Tree, but there are more important matters to tend to that hold greater priority. “Those guys beat you halfway to death, Kyungsoo.They messed you up in the premature stages of realising your sexuality. What they did traumatized you so badly, you wouldn’t speak to me for days and had to attend bi-weekly counseling sessions. This isn’t something that can be overlooked just for the sake of making flashbacks a reality. I’m okay with not seeing Oakley; it’s been five years, I’m positive I can wait longer.”

 

Kyungsoo smiles in genuine appreciation. How grateful he is to be able to call Jongin his own.

 

“Thank you, baby. I really adore that you’re willing to do such a thing for me, but trust me. I’ve put it all behind me! Those wretched days with that intolerable shrink weren’t spent in vain. I’m okay now. Besides, I’ve been planning this for the past month and I’m not letting it go down the drain because of something that ruined me as a child.”

 

The glimmering in Jongin’s eyes say it all: “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

 

A few scattered chuckles later, twisted roots and long branches come into view. The _badump_ of Kyungsoo’s heart revs alive like the engine of a Nascar racing vehicle. Memories of blood and agony pluck his heartstrings to a dangerous, volatile melody. He shuts his eyes for a moment, reminding himself why he is there.

 

“ _This is for Jongin. This is for Jongin. For Jongin. Jongin,”_ he repeats as if it were some holy mantra over and over again in his head and soon enough, his mind is clear.

 

“I have to admit I was weary of coming back here, but this is the day to change it all. Let’s write a new story, Nini.”

 

As they approach, Kyungsoo smirks in surprise. Baekhyun really outdid himself. Even if the sun is still a very blinding yellow in the sky and it’s only roughly noon, he - likely with the help of Chanyeol - strung twine balls of light amid twigs above their heads. On the ancient wooden bench residing next to the stump rests the better of Chanyeol’s two acoustic guitars, Marley, just begging to be played. There is a foldable picnic table on the small flat of the ground facing the sparkling pond that neighbors their tree friend. Kyungsoo recognizes the vase full of hand-picked perennials standing between two plates of finger sandwiches and fruit. The atmosphere is elegant but not too formal, and it is just right for them.

 

A gasp of delight brings him back to Earth, only to feel Jongin release his hand and sprint off to wrap his lanky limbs around the tree’s base.

 

“Oakley! How I’ve missed you, your leafiness!”

 

The sight is endearing, enough to warm Kyungsoo’s heart to the point of forgetting the blackened eye and bruised ribs.

 

“Do you like it, baby?”

 

“ _Do I like it?_ Soo, I love it! The place looks absolutely enchanting! It’s like it has come straight from some modern fairy tale!”

 

Through the excitement, Jongin’s growling stomach tells them both to shut up and feed him. Kindly, so as to not further upset Mr.Stomach, they abide by his request and fill themselves up with not only bread and berries, but the consolation of lighthearted small talk and smiles.

 

“I see that Marley seems awfully forlorn over there, waiting for someone to strike her strings.”

 

Kyungsoo agrees, “You’re right, maybe I should serenade you to make her happy.”

 

The ballad he chooses to belt out is an emotional one. It describes the love he has for Jongin, the pain they’ve been through, the occasions where no one else matters if only the other is happy. His song is so momentously moving, that by the time he concludes it with the final line, both he and Jongin are in tears.

 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” the younger cries into his sleeve, feeling as if the Heavens have opened up and gifted him their most precious angel.

 

The rest of the day passes in joyous laughter, vintage arcade games, and expensive fanciful meals that on no other day would they dare feast on. As night nears and the day draws to a close, Kyungsoo’s nerves skyrocket to somewhere more distant than space. His anxiety about the proposal was successfully kept at a down low for the majority of the time, but suddenly questions bombard him in a raid he was never warned about. What if Jongin says no? What if he never wanted to get married? What if this is simply something to pass time before graduating from university and moving on to the real thing? All those pesky, infamous ‘what if’s don’t leave his mind. But then Kyungsoo takes a small glimpse at their intertwined hands and all of his doubts disintegrate into ashes, as if they never even existed. What has he got to worry about? _Jongin loves him._

 

A while back, the two had switched from walking to Kyungsoo’s car - which of course was coordinated to be ready by the labor of Byun Baekhyun. As Jongin remains clueless about where in the city their destination is, the sun outside their windows begins to say his evening farewells.

 

“There is one last thing I have prepared for tonight.”

 

“Even after everything we’ve done today, you still have another trick up your sleeve? You are impossible, Soo.”

 

“Well it’s no Beethoven, but I’m certain this gives him a run for his money.”

 

“I’m dying out of curiosity! Why do you always lead me on like this?”

 

“Don’t you worry, baby. You’ll be enlightened soon enough,” Kyungsoo reassures as he reverse parks into one of the four spaces fenced off from an open grassy field.

 

 _“This is it,”_ the elder speaks in his mind.

 

“Wow, Kyungsoo. While this is gorgeous, I can’t really imagine what business we would have here. We’ve already eaten dinner, so I’m sure it isn’t another picnic.”

 

Kyungsoo lays out a typical red and white checkered blanket, staying mum while gathering the right words to utilize in his speech. Even if he rehearsed a collection of different ways to pop the question - seven times to his reflection, twelve times to Baekhyun, and three times to Chanyeol - they flung themselves from a rooftop and not one of them had the generosity to stay. He is a wreck on the inside, that much is true.

 

“I guess sunset watching is pretty romantic, nice choice.”

 

Under the swirls of fuchsia and violet hung high in the sky, Jongin _glows._ He is the definition of beauty, and Kyungsoo can’t help but somehow find the words he needs in patches of highlighted skin and curls of hair billowing in the breeze. They come naturally to him.

 

“Jongin, as perfect as you are right this moment, I need you to listen to me.”

 

Interest piqued, the younger’s features contort and etch an intrigued shimmer in his eyes.

 

“For the sake of the impact of the real deal, I’ll keep this short.

 

Nini, five years ago you had the audacity to come literally crashing into my life and confuse everything I had ever known about myself. You were this blustering category five hurricane and I was stuck in the eye of the storm with no way out. Given how close we were and the level of intimacy we shared as only friends, it was inexorable that eventually we would fall in love. Fall we did and many years later, here we stand.

 

I know we’re only in college, surviving off of our best friend’s paychecks, but have you ever stopped to think of what’s going to become of us when we graduate? Our majors call for different lifestyles, and we’d be sure to become isolated from each other in some shape or form. Well, I don’t know about you, but losing such an important part of my life would devastate me.”

 

Before an unearthly being of grace and refinement, Do Kyungsoo gets down on one knee for the first time in his life.

 

“Kim Jongin, I live to love you every waking moment of my existence. You are the reason the sun shines and the waves crash. You are all four seasons and all seven continents. You are the one person I could ever imagine myself owning a house with, going down to the animal shelter with, adopting children with. I only see myself with you. We are without jobs now, but in a few years, I want to be the one who provides for you. I want to be the one who pampers you with love and affection. I want to spend the rest of my days with you. So when that time comes, would you do me the honor of being your husband?”

 

When Jongin remains mute and head down, Kyungsoo feels this rumbling thunder cloud of regret trembling inside his heart. It was too soon. Jongin isn’t ready for this. He’s only 21! Of course he’s wary, they aren’t even guaranteed careers yet. This was too soon, much too-

 

“Yes.”

 

And with that single word, Kyungsoo is pulled from his internal monologue of mortification.

 

“Yes, Kyungsoo! Yes!”

 

Dumbfounded, the older can’t move an inch from where he kneels on the sheet.

 

“You will?”

 

“Of course I will! I love you, I love you, I love you!” Jongin exclaims, tears inescapably rolling down his cheeks. He throws his arms over Kyungsoo’s shoulders and crashes their lips together in the most passionate kiss they’ve shared. Through it, he conveys all the love he has inside him and the triumph and gratefulness that courses through his veins in that very moment.

 

Still frozen, Kyungsoo utters, “You don’t think it’s too soon? That we don’t even have a set life in place yet? And society! Not everyone is going to accept us. Hell, we might even have to pay thousands to find an officiant to marry us! Are you sure you’re willing to go through with this?”

 

“You know, for having just proposed a minute ago, you suck at believing in yourself.”

 

“It’s only because you make my knees weak and my heart shake. I can’t help but feel inferior to your inordinate flawlessness.”

 

With a grin stitched onto his lips, Jongin rebukes, “Well get used to it, you’re dealing with this until the end of our days.”

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

150214

 

Chanyeol and Baekhyun lie in bed after an exhausting day of running around with walkie talkies, the damned Polaroid, and a variation of supplies needed for each place and event Kyungsoo took Jongin. Sure they had to sacrifice their own Valentine’s Day, but if their best friend trusted them enough to assist him in something as grand as proposing, they didn’t mind giving one day of the year away. Besides, there were many more lovey dovey, Cupid-filled, candy heart holidays to come.

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Yeol,” Baekhyun whispers, curling into his big spoon when they finally get the chance to breathe.

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

 

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to actually do anything for ourselves today.”

 

Chanyeol chuckles, voice husky when he speaks, “I shamelessly enjoyed scurrying off with you to fulfill Kyungsoo’s proposal needs. Besides, I didn’t mind helping him out. I am really happy for those two love birds. Their future together is bright, I can see it.”

 

“Oh, shut up. You don’t have those super power, alien abilities you so longingly desire. But that’s okay, I love you just the way you are.”

 

In a state of elation and ease, Baekhyun twists uncomfortably to peck his lover on the cheek. Ever bashful, Chanyeol blushes a deep red and buries his face into the other’s clothed back.

 

When he cools down a bit, the giant tentatively muses aloud, “Speaking of the future-”

 

“We weren’t speaking of the future,” Baekhyun interjects sharply, tensing in Chanyeol’s arms. It was not a topic he preferred to touch on.

 

With a sense of rejection and a dampened mood, Chanyeol recoils and tries again, this time with a subtler approach.

 

“Sometimes my dreams are filled with prospects of what is to come. When I see Kyungsoo and Jongin, people younger than us, I start thinking of what will happen when we graduate. I love you more than I love myself, and I would hate if we broke up because we have to go our separate ways. So I thought, _why don’t we get married?_ ”

 

While fondness pulls at the corners of Chanyeol’s lips, Baekhyun chokes on nothing but his own saliva. The older has to sit up and detach himself from the other to stop the coughs that hack at his throat. When he does calm, he stays quiet and retreats back into his turtle shell. Chanyeol can’t help but feel left out, though concerned.

 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

 

Hesitantly, Baekhyun unfurls himself and finds the urge to return to his rightful place beside the giant, _his giant._

 

“Nothing, I’m okay. Let’s just close our eyes and sleep now, yeah? Yeah, that sounds good.”

 

And before Chanyeol even has the time to react, Baekhyun’s head lolls toward the pillow and soft snores fill the air. Although his topic of conversation was shot down so hurriedly, he can’t let this irk him. Chanyeol nods to himself and heeds to his lover’s orders, cuddling closer to attain some much deserved shut-eye.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

150526

 

As stressed out college students with too much work on their plates, the quartet of best friends often find themselves feeding off the free wifi and overpriced coffee of the cafe in between the university and the apartment. Their visits vary, different combinations of the four coming in at different times of day. While their purpose of coming usually tends to be studying or refueling themselves with caffeine, it isn’t uncommon for Jongin and Kyungsoo to frequent the franchise for dates. After all, the mellow ambiance is just the place for the two to revel in each other’s presence, outside of the house and closed off from the hustle and bustle of daily life on the streets.

 

“Hello, what can I get for the two of you?” A nice barista greets them with too much cheer, contrasting his intimidating height and seemingly cold eyes.

 

The guy must be new, the couple has never seen him around before.

 

Jongin gives him a quick smile before reciting their usual orders: an americano and a hot chocolate (even if it _is_ the middle of Spring).

 

“Great, that’ll be $7.25. Can I get your names?”

 

“Jongin, why don’t you go and find our usual seats? I’ll take care of this,” he offers before turning to the man behind the counter and handing him eight dollar bills. “For the names you can put Kyungsoo on the americano and Jongin on the other.”

 

“Alright, I’ll have them out shortly!”

 

Minutes later, the beverages are brewed and set proudly on the counter.

 

“Thanks,” Kyungsoo peeks at the taller’s name tag, “Yifan.”

 

Said man nods politely, a grin poking at the corners of his lips.

 

“Are you new here? Usually around this time it’s Minseok working the register.”

 

“I am. I’m just covering for Minseok’s shift. I recently moved here from Guangzhou, China. I graduated and flew to Korea in hopes of possibly finding my way into the entertainment industry. Though, if that doesn’t work out, I minored in business management.”

 

Impressed, Kyungsoo lets out a soft sigh. Yifan looks so full of passion and inspiration sharing his career plans with a stranger while he himself doesn’t have too much of both.

 

“Wow, you’re so ambitious. I admire that a lot. I’m not too sure where life wants to take me just yet, even if I am majoring in computer science.”

 

“That’s alright, not everyone knows just yet.”

 

“Thanks, Yifan,” he gives his gratitude and proceeds to deliver their cups to the corner table Jongin favors.

 

(But only later does he catch sight of the doodled cartoon version of himself on the side of his americano, complete with a scrawled ‘cutie, call me some time’ and a number he assumes is Yifan’s.)

 

“Soo, I’ve gotta talk to you about something,” Jongin wrings his fingers, twisting the band on his left hand. His shoulders seem tense with unusual seriousness.

 

Interested - but mostly panicked, Kyungsoo leans forward in urgency, “What is it, baby? Are you hurting again? Are you sick? Shit, you are sick aren’t you? Please don’t tell me you’re terminally ill. I can’t live without you!”

 

With a small chuckle, Jongin shakes his head in disbelief.

 

“You’re crazy! I just needed to talk to you about the upcoming dance showcase in July.”

 

Recognition passes in Kyungsoo’s eyes as he visibly lightens up and answers, “Ah, that’s right. I’m excited to watch it, I know how much effort you dance students put into it. Even that Oh Sehun works his butt off for this.”

 

“I’m very thrilled that you’re anticipating it, but there’s also a downside to it being a university level project.”

 

“What, won’t the moves just be harder or something? I’m by no means an expert at this stuff, but it can’t be so unfortunately horrible that you have to get this nervous over telling me about it.”

 

“Of course the choreography is going to be much more challenging, that’s expected. But a huge proportion of my time is going to be solely dedicated to dance. This isn’t some lame high school thing at an assembly. They’re probably going to be driving us like slaves. There may be nights when I get home really late, there may be nights when I don’t come home at all… And I wanted to tell you this ahead of time because I need you to trust me.”

 

“Trust you?”

 

“I’m completely aware of your thoughts on Sehun. You don’t like him because you think he’s still pining over me, even after you guys called a truce and he started dating that Chinese boy, Luhan. So you have the right to know that he’ll be there with me when you aren’t. I’m going to be spending a whole lot more time with him than you over the course of the next month or so,” Jongin breathes regretfully, hoping for an understanding reaction from his _fiance._

 

“Baby, listen to me. Of course I trust you. You know that trust is what our entire relationship is based on.”

 

Jongin sighs, relieved that Kyungsoo is such a loving and understanding lover.

 

“Thank you, Soo. I love you with my entire being.”

 

Naturally, the other answers back.

 

“I love you too.”

 

But for some odd, disheartening reason, Kyungsoo feels a pinch of reluctance in saying the phrase so openly in front of a certain foreign barista.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

150615

 

Kyungsoo’s first mistake takes place on an abnormally dreary dawn on a Tuesday in June.

 

The skies cry silver tears from puffs of condensation, replacing the constant shimmering copper sun of summer. Any average street-goer may wonder what malicious super villain could have stolen the star from its rightful place, but only a select few could possibly know the thief was a mere university junior under the name of Byun Baekhyun.

 

It is four hours past one in the morning, and a knock - barely audible - announces a presence at his bedroom door. Kyungsoo, who lately has been sleeping lightly in the case Jongin comes home at an ungodly hour, gets up begrudgingly to answer the person; it’s probably Chanyeol, since Baekhyun usually leaves for an early class this day of the week and Jongin told him he’d be home at around noon. Though Kyungsoo is most certainly annoyed for being awoken, he is thankful Chanyeol has finally learned not to barge in on their privacy and knock before entering.

 

“It’s five in the morning, what do you want?” But the sight he swings the door open to makes him regret being so ignorant and harsh.

 

_(Kyungsoo should never have opened the door .)_

 

In one word, Chanyeol is wrecked.

 

His day to day fluffy hair is even more disheveled and mussed up. Red rims edge his bloodshot eyes, evidence that he’d been crying heavily. The planes of his nails are chewed and bitten down to the skin. Bruises litter his knees and inner arms, and Kyungsoo wonders why he didn’t wake up to any clumsy noises the older might have made.

 

And the thing that gives away his pain the most is his voice when he croaks out with a crack, “Baekhyun, he-”

 

Suddenly, as if the world collapsed under him, Chanyeol stumbles forward into Kyungsoo’s arms in tears, dry heaving.

 

“Ch-Chanyeol? What’s wrong? What about Baekhyun?” Kyungsoo asks, both shocked and anxiously worried at the same time.

 

Reduced to a mess, Chanyeol struggles to stop hyperventilating. He gasps for breath but his sobs don’t help much in retaining it.Somehow, he manages to squeeze out a makeshift explanation in between chokes. “G-Gone. He-He’s gone!”

 

Time seems to stop for Kyungsoo. Gone? What could that mean? Baekhyun is gone?

 

“Chanyeol, please calm down,” he urges, knowing he has to be strong for the other. “Come on, Chanyeol. Take a deep breath.”

 

While it takes more than a few attempts, he does eventually soothe his racing, stallion heart enough for him to actually breathe.

 

Believing his now limp state proves he is subdued enough, Kyungsoo softly coaxes Chanyeol to open up, “Look at me, look me in the eyes.”

 

Slowly but surely, Chanyeol’s darting, unfocused eyes find his own and still. Though panic and stress make a big statement in them, they also beg for comfort and reassurance Kyungsoo is certain he can’t offer.

 

“Good job. Now listen to me closely,” is what he says. But though his eyes are alert, Chanyeol is about as attentive as a fly at the moment. “Really, really listen. Okay, I need you to fill me in. What’s wrong with Baekhyun?”

 

A visible shudder racks through the older’s body. The mere mention of the name causes 8.6 level tremors to ripple inside him with every breath intake.

 

“Where is he?” Kyungsoo repeats in gentler, censored fashion.

 

Regardless of the progress he covered just seconds prior, the question definitely shuts him up, lips sealed tight as a clam because _he doesn’t exactly know._

 

With no other option in mind, Chanyeol rises - with much difficulty - to his feet and steadies himself on the doorway before lightly grasping the other’s wrist and pulling him towards the room he shares - _shared_ \- with Baekhyun. Kyungsoo steps in and the first thing he notices is that nothing that could even be remotely related to Baekhyun is in sight. Not his tacky Christmas sweater with jingling bells hot glued to the front; not his favorite pen embellished with tiny jewels; not even his fluffy body pillow that he snuggles up to at night despite his boyfriend’s protests. Not one article of clothing, worn down notebook, or pair of earbuds was left behind. If it weren’t for the aching in both male’s hearts, it could have been like a Byun Baekhyun never existed in the first place.

 

“D-Did he…”

 

Unable to finish his question out loud, Kyungsoo relies on their oh so magical telepathic messaging to ask if there was anything at all their oldest companion left behind that he might have happened to miss.

 

Voice wavering and hands shaking, Chanyeol passes a crumpled note his way.

 

It reads:

 

_Thank you for everything._

_Don’t try to find me._

  


_I love you, my giant._

 

Baekhyun really is gone. Without a word, he up and left the three of them behind.

 

A surge of mixed emotions crash into Kyungsoo all at once.

 

At first it’s disbelief, then denial. The four of them have stuck together for almost two years, and suddenly Baekhyun is gone? No, this is just some kind of sick prank that was taken way too far. He’s just hiding in the closet. Chanyeol didn’t check the closet!

 

“Okay, Baekhyun. Jig’s up! Fess up or I’ll force you out of there,” Kyungsoo’s voice warbles to a closet of empty hangers and a floor with the absence of certain shoes. He doesn’t hear the whimper that comes from behind him; Chanyeol had done the very same thing.

 

“K-Kyungsoo, stop.”

 

“Come on, you don’t really believe it do you?” He laughs, but the crystal tears in his eyes betray his words. “Baekhyun, hurry it up!”

 

“Stop!”

 

“No! We have to get him out of there!”

 

“Kyungsoo!”

 

“Baekhyun!”

 

“Kyung-”

 

“Baekhyun, you have three seconds!”

 

“Stop, please stop!” Chanyeol begs frantically, twitching around with his hands pressed against his ears to block it out.

 

“One!”

 

“No.”

 

“Two!”

 

Defeated, Chanyeol tries one last time. His heart is broken, and it reflects in his plea, “Do Kyungsoo, please no more. He’s not coming back, so please stop.”

 

“Th-Three,” is all it takes for him to crumble just as the older did minutes ago. He caves in on himself, wrapping arms around his own torso. Reality hits him harder than any pitcher’s ball could. _Baekhyun is gone and he’s not coming back._

 

It’s anger that floods his soul next when he spots a weary Chanyeol lingering by his bed, avoiding its touch as if it were a flaming torch. Something drops in his chest at the image, and an enraged monsoon takes its place. How dare Baekhyun leave Chanyeol! Sure he can be quite the idiot at times, but he loves him dearly and that should be more than enough reason to stay. Who has that kind of audacity to leave their lover to fend for themselves in a dangerous world without explanation? Did he think a three-sentence note was an excuse for such a drastic action? In the years he had come to know him, Kyungsoo never took Baekhyun as that kind of person.

 

But Baekhyun _isn’t_ that kind of person, and Kyungsoo knows it.

 

Eventually, any trace of fury he carried for their missing friend dissipated. Slowly falling into place is a gut wrenching sadness, something even bystanders would mourn for if Kyungsoo bore a painting of his soul on his skin instead of a shirt. The Byun Baekhyun they knew wouldn’t even consider disappearing without a reasonable incentive. And that’s what makes it so damn depressing. What could possibly have gnawed at him for such a long time that he felt compelled to ditch them? To ditch his lover? What horrid catch existed there to their relationship that forced Baekhyun to leave so suddenly?

 

For all the plaguing questions and their respective answers, Kyungsoo wept.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

150615

 

Byun Baekhyun is on the run.

 

He is a fugitive on the loose, a criminal escaping from the law. He knows it isn’t long before the alarms are triggered, so he sprints far from his cell at the speed of light. He needs to get away, he has to. He needs to evacuate before the consequences of his actions land him on death row. He needs to vanish now, before the jailkeeper can snatch him back up in her corrupt hands. Baekhyun has to go, for the sake of his freedom and for the sake of everyone he loves.

 

If he doesn’t flee the city, she’ll surely catch him. He’ll be caught and the punishment will be immediate. The moment she sniffs him out with her K-9 bloodhound, he’s dead meat. He’ll be thrown back into the slammer without second thought. She is ignorant, impressionable, and merciless. For 22 years he was bound in chains under her eagle-like stare, forced to submit to her commands. Every order was complied with until he met the catalyst of his rebellion, his unknowing partner in crime: Park Chanyeol.

 

Since the day he could comprehend words, Baekhyun’s mother fed him her dreams, ignorant to what his own would eventually turn out to be. She would remind him every day without fail: “You are going to get married to a girl of my choice when you graduate from university. She will be perfect and because of that, you will have a perfect relationship with two perfect genius children - a girl and a boy.” It was the same speech repeated so often he could recite it backwards, letters and all. She practically ingrained it with a blade into his head, just so that her failed life dreams would be forced onto her son.

 

Up until his senior year of high school, Baekhyun had no intention of going against his mother’s will. As much as she was controlling, she was also loving toward him. She gave him life, and though there is no way to pay that back, he was willing to try. He met the girl,Taeyeon - whose parents had forced her into the same situation - time to time when dates were scheduled. He paid for the meals they dined on together, just like any gentleman should. He delivered bouquets to her doorstep on Valentine’s Day and sang to her when the occasion called on it. Baekhyun put all his effort into making the best of what was practically bondage, but it soon became evident to the both of them that it wasn’t going to work out.

 

As things would happen, Taeyeon had found someone else who fit her tastes in the years they’d been together. It was a cold, dewey day when she arrived disheveled and depressed at his door. She confessed with a heavy heart and guilty conscience, though Baekhyun couldn’t bring himself to be sad about the ordeal. They were both free, and his elation could fly him through the roof. He remembers telling her it was okay and shushing her sobs until they were nothing but quiet sniffles. He took her face into his hands and gave her one last kiss on the forehead - for good luck, he clarified. Baekhyun will never forget the breath of air he took in the moment Taeyeon left the premises. It was the biggest puff of oxygen he’d gotten in a long while. A gargantuan boulder the size of Everest was lifted off his chest, and he prayed that Taeyeon’s boyfriend would be well-rewarded for his freedom.

 

At first, his mother was infuriated. All the time she dedicated to weeding out the perfect little miss for her son went to waste because the whore couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She should have known the girl had harlequin intentions of simply getting into Baekhyun’s pants when she first met her. Surely her precious baby would be absolutely heartbroken and scared to love again. Under the umbrella of these false impressions, Baekhyun’s mother forbid Taeyeon from their household and loosened the leash she wrapped around her son’s neck, allowing him to live his university life free of any romantic interests.

 

It was during this time that Baekhyun met a handsome young man as he was grocery shopping. He was starting to regret not taking ballet as a child when learning how to use pointe shoes would be an effective skill in reaching for the tomato sauce cans on the top shelf. With perspiration dripping down his forehead - because of Summer, not embarrassment - he cursed his short-statured self while on the very tips of his toes, reaching outward with concentration. His fingertips were right there, almost there when a very warm chest pressed up against the expanse of his back and an arm stretched up with ease to grab the can Baekhyun was eyeing.

 

“Pardon me, but I couldn’t help but notice your misfortune here. I had to help,” the six-foot giant peered down sheepishly while handing over the sauce.

 

If it had been any other person, Byun Baekhyun would have backhanded them for insulting his height, but for some unsettling reason, the fluttering in his chest prohibited him from doing anything but gape like a fish out of water.

 

The other regarded him quizzically, but saluted him with a wave of two fingers accompanied by a toothy grin and pivoted to take his leave.

 

Baekhyun was too stuck in his state of awe to even realise what was walking away from him until the can in his hand fell from his grasp. The clank of metal against linoleum shocked him back into reality as Mr.Giant made the sharp turn around the aisle.

 

“Wait!”

 

And the rest was history.

 

Well, _is_ history.

 

Because no matter how many tears track down his cheeks, no matter how many ragged breaths escape from his lips, no matter how many forlorn pleas are sent to his Mother, _things will not change_. He was stupid to think that just because he found true love, the Apollo of his life, his mother would be pleased. Baekhyun’s hopes and dreams were all contradicted on that fateful day some months ago when a letter from his mother was received in the mail.

 

She knew about Chanyeol.

 

The scolding Baekhyun took was the worst he’d ever gotten in his twenty-three years of life. She reprimanded him harshly for becoming a slut, a faggot slut. She reminded him coldly that she gave him his university years to take time to recover from heartbreak, not suffer from another one. Accused of being “just as horrid as that filthy ex-fiance” of his, Baekhyun was nearly disowned. It never hit him just how much was at stake by dating the embodiment of the Sun, Park Chanyeol. He risked losing. He risked losing his love, his mother, his will to live. It was too much to even attempt to comprehend.

 

So he did what he does best when it comes to her: he submitted. Under her strict watch, Baekhyun distanced himself from his lover. First it was in intimacy, then verbally. It was done subtly in the course of four months, enough time to gently let down Chanyeol - though he knew with what they had, no amount of time would ever suffice. It wasn’t even a simple action anymore. Somewhere along the way it became not something to please his witch of a mother, but a final stretch to protect Chanyeol. By fleeing, he will be putting Chanyeol out of the most direct line of fire. He’ll take the heat. It was his fault for falling in love anyways.

 

Baekhyun leaves, but he leaves with the thought of love in mind. He loves Chanyeol, he loves Kyungsoo, and he loves Jongin. He loves his makeshift family of sorts. He knows that his departing will put them in a financial drought, but he bittersweetly laughs it out of his conscience. It’s about time Kyungsoo got a job.

 

So he goes.

 

He returns to being held captive.

 

Byun Baekhyun crucifies himself.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

150615

 

It’s quite unfortunate that Do Kyungsoo makes his second mistake the same day as the first.

 

A couple silent hours after the whole “Baekhyun Escaped” fiasco, he finally let reality sink in. It was difficult, painstakingly so, but it was a necessity. Instead of enabling his emotions to probe at his lifeless lump of a body, he had to think clearly and in a new perspective. This sudden loss isn’t just a blow to all of their hearts, but their wallets as well. They can’t manage an apartment housing three broke university students with a single income, it’s simply unimaginable! As much as they could all hope, Chanyeol’s part-time shifts at the convenience store won’t be considered so convenient anymore with the economic strain Baekhyun’s fleeing is responsible for. Desperately, Kyungsoo ultimately whittled his options down to throwing the towel in and finding a job.

 

That’s how he ends up buried knee-deep in newspaper ads, anxiously avoiding the weirder tasks - Do Kyungsoo _will not_ end up selling durian to strangers as per request by that cat lady two blocks down. Sifting through horrendous suggestions in the papers to find a job certainly proved to be much harder than he originally thought. Would it be best to go out into town to scavenge his options by ‘Help Wanted’ signs in the storefront windows? Maybe he should ask Chanyeol what to do, he’s been through this before. But then again, the older isn’t necessarily in the clearest mindset at the moment, still recovering from today’s early morning blows.

 

Faced with crossroads, Kyungsoo sets his reading glasses to the side along with the newspaper. It’s ten now, there’s still time for him to survey the streets before he has to be the one to welcome Jongin home with a cake to break the news in frosted script saying, “Hey, love! Guess who walked out on us today!” Trying not to be too melancholy and with the weight of the world atop his shoulders, he scoots his chair back with a scrape and heads for the door.

 

“Lord, please have mercy on my soul for the next hour and a half,” Kyungsoo murmurs to no one while he laces up his Converse, praying that Mrs. Choi doesn’t flag him down with her pungent fruits.

 

Forty minutes into his job search of failed findings, Kyungsoo sits on a bench kicking around unsuspecting pebbles.

 

“Stupid economy, not making enough jobs for college kids in need,” he grumbles in annoyance with his eyebrows knit tight together. “Not enough space, not qualified enough, not accepting new employees, bullshit.”

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt your childish yet extremely adorable tantrum, but please take those rocks’ families into consideration.”

 

Scared out of his wits by the deep resonation suddenly beside him, Kyungsoo nearly skyrockets off the seat. He has half a mind to berate whoever this guy thinks he is, calling him immature and-

 

“Yifan?”

 

By some miracle - because Kyungsoo’s memory was never _that_ sharp - he recalls the Chinese barista from the cafe whose number he never gave a second thought of calling after saving it in his phone.

 

“Ding, ding, ding! That’s me,” and he flashes this smile that must have mysterious powers because instantaneously, Kyungsoo’s worries are washed away. “If I may ask, what has you so wound up? Certainly those poor stones don’t deserve that grinding treatment you’re giving them now.”

 

Caught in action, Kyungsoo’s toes slowly come to a stop.

 

“Why would I tell a stranger about my personal life?” He teases lightly, feeling seven million times lighter now that he’s next to Yifan.

 

“Ouch, a stranger.”

 

“Isn’t that what you are?”

 

Yifan smirks, “I don’t know, usually I don’t share all my hopes and dreams with someone I plan to simply call Stranger.”

 

They share a small laugh before the taller becomes serious.

 

“Really though, are you alright? I know we don’t know much about each other, but I am here to listen.”

 

Heaving a sigh, Kyungsoo threads fingers through his hair; a trim is needed soon.

 

“It’s okay, take your time. I sense that something on a grand scale must have happened.”

 

“That’s one way to put it.”

 

Yifan hums and they fall into an ambient silence, birds whistling and leaves rustling above them.

 

It takes more than just a couple minutes, but Kyungsoo does eventually open up to a small degree.

 

“The wound is still fresh, so I don’t want to delve too deep into details, but there are - excuse me, _were_ \- four of us living in an apartment. There was basically a double-income between the two eldest of us. The rest of us don’t know why, but this morning one of them bailed,” he pauses solemnly, and Yifan understands that this person must have meant a lot to them. “So basically, I’m tracking every rat I see to find a decent job opening or two.”

 

At this, Yifan’s eyes brighten.

 

“I’ve got the perfect opening for you.”

 

A puzzled look settles on Kyungsoo’s features.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, you’ll be working at the cafe!”

 

“The cafe?”

 

“Yes, the cafe, is there something wrong with that?”

 

Kyungsoo hurries to deny, not wanting to offend Yifan.

 

“No, it’s just that I was there a few days ago and Minseok didn’t mention anything about looking for new employees. Plus, they’ve already got you.”

 

“Yeah, but Boss is always looking to help out indebted college kids as long as they promise dedicated work.”

 

“I see,” Kyungsoo murmurs.

 

“So how about it? Come with me to the shop?”

 

Letting out a sigh, he accepts with the thought that hopefully he gets this job.

 

It takes a few seconds to actually process what that means.

 

Working alongside Yifan, tall, striking, kindhearted Yifan. He’d have to guide Kyungsoo through everything, teach him the ropes. Their hands would brush occasionally when the morning rush floods in and they’re too flustered to slow down. His alluring voice would constantly be there beside him, greeting customers with the same energy he displayed when he and Jongin came in that one day.

 

Oh, that’s right. _Jongin._

 

Kyungsoo has been feeling awfully alone and empty lately with Jongin preoccupied with dance rehearsal. The cold space next to him in bed has been taking residence much more often than its actual inhabitant. Quite frankly, the absence of his partner-in-life-to-be uneases him to no end. With Jongin constantly running off to play Kai, the deliriously deprived part of Kyungsoo tricks himself into thinking the artist likes that role better than being his baby. But he knows better. Jongin had warned him, he had asked him to trust him like he always has. This month is nothing but thirty days closer to the day they officially and legally join together.

 

But still.

 

The itching desire to do something _rebellious_ claws at his insides.

 

He knows the compelling, magnetic pull toward Yifan is dangerous, that nothing good can come from working together. He knows the spark between them will lead to compromising situations, that something disastrous may happen as a result of this one decision. But he also knows that all taboo attractions aside, he needs this job. Who knows? Maybe a good dose of drama will spice up his recently boring routine. After all, what is life without a little excitement?

 

Kyungsoo jumps, but he doesn’t recognize the icy waters he’ll drown in.

 

“Let’s go,” he smirks, dancing lovers and problematic best friends in the back of his mind.

 

Yifan quirks a brow, but says nothing but, “After you, sir.”

 

They walk the half mile down to the cafe, chattering on about random topics of conversation.

 

It becomes hard to deny the evident chemistry between them when they enter through the doors, bell chime alerting Minseok, who seems surprised to see them together.

 

“Yifan? Kyungsoo? What are you guys doing here?”

 

Taking the initiative to answer, Yifan steps behind the counter and grabs for an apron. Business is surprisingly slow for the time being, but that was bound to change drastically in the next half hour or so.

 

“Well, I figured I’d stop in to help out for the daily twelve o’clock wave of customers. Oh, and Kyungsoo here is looking to as well.”

 

This piques the other barista’s attention, and he looks up from his phone (which technically should be away in the phone box, but who cares?).

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Yifan rolls his eyes.

 

“What is it with people not understanding what I say today?”

 

“Oh, shut up you oaf. Now explain the situation to me.”

 

“Whatever. So I found this little penguin abusing rocks because he couldn’t find a job, and I thought, ‘Hey, why not take him under our wing?’ I present the question, the little penguin agrees, and here we are fifteen minutes later.”

 

“Right,” Minseok drawls out, holding the vowel in disbelief. “Because _Kyungsoo_ wants a job. Somehow I find that awfully hard to believe.”

 

Exasperated, Yifan throws his long, gangly limbs to the Heavens.

 

“Why are you interrogating me? I’m just the Godsend Angel of Citizenship. I’m Kyungsoo’s savior for giving him this work opportunity. I’m not only saving his life, but his other flatmates’ as well!”

 

“You’re exaggerating,” Kyungsoo coughs.

 

The tallest throws a cupped hand over the younger’s mouth, “Hush, small one!”

 

While the palm against his lips feels entirely arousing and quite kinky, he feels scrutinized under Minseok’s hawk-level precision gaze (though Kyungsoo must admit the change in roles from dom to sub would feel pretty mind blowing).

 

He pries the fingers from his face and brushes himself off with a glare that isn’t all that menacing.

 

“Now if I could get an application form and set up an interview, that would be great. It takes me forever to fill out papers and I’m not in the mood for that hold up today.”

 

Yifan perks up in excitement.

 

“I got it. Has Boss left yet or is she still in the back?”

 

“She’s back there,” Minseok says lowly, eyes never leaving Kyungsoo.

 

The moment the foreigner steps out of the empty dining area and therefore out of hearing range, the eldest drops the bullshit.

 

“You need a job?”

 

Kyungsoo grunts, not exactly wanting to replay the still sensitive memories for the thousandth time today.

 

“Hey,” Minseok’s voice softens. “Are you guys okay?”

 

He knows who he’s referring to - the four of them - and it makes him sick to the stomach.

 

It must show on his face because the barista stops prying.

 

“Look,” Minseok sighs, “I know we aren’t super incredibly close and all, but I care for the lot of you. I don't bother swirling little hearts into any other couple’s drinks but KaiSoo and ChanBaek.”

 

The mere mention of Baekhyun makes his eyes shake as he whimpers softly. Turns out he isn’t as desensitized as he had hoped.

 

“But creamy art aside, if any one of you ever needs to talk, you know where to find me. I mean it, you can always come to me.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Kyungsoo breathes heavily, willing away the pain.

 

But Minseok is not done.

 

“On the other hand, what was going on with you and that Chinese lump of laze?”

 

“What?”

 

“The sexual tension was so thick, I almost choked.”

 

“Sexual tension?” He sputters, eyes blown.

 

“Yeah, sexual tension. It looked like there was only a thin sheet of tissue paper that kept you from pouncing on each other.”

 

And what Kyungsoo does next should have served as a sign.

 

He blushes.

 

“Oh, really?” He whispers, cheeks scarlet.

 

“What is going on though?”

 

Clearing his throat, Kyungsoo answers truthfully, “Nothing. Nothing is going on.”

 

The suspicion never truly does erase itself from Minseok’s features.

 

“It sure doesn’t seem like it.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

With a long exhale and a hand tugging at tangled hair in tension, the senior employee grunt out, “Whatever, just don’t hurt Jongin.”

 

It’s the second time today he’s forgotten about his fiance because of Yifan. The trend just seems to repeat itself without him noticing it, and it scares him half to death.

 

What’s wrong with him?

 

Jongin is his baby, _his._

 

“He’s stronger than we all originally perceive, but he loves hard. No one can blame you for how you feel, but… just be careful, Kyungsoo. Don’t break that boy,” Minseok concludes as Yifan walks back out with a pen and an application packet in hand.

 

“Okay, so Boss says you can fill this out and go back there for an interview in the next hour.”

 

He hands the younger the stack of papers and something in Kyungsoo’s head switches on.

 

The tables and booths, the milks and creams, both Yifan and Minseok. They all fade into a fuzzy blur when he goes out of focus and leaves the cafe to enter his subconscious.

 

Is it worth it? Is the risk of possibly nourishing this bond with Yifan too great? What about Jongin? Would Minseok say anything to him?

 

The questions attack him like a barrage of bullets and arrowheads, but it all comes down to one of thing: the future.

 

While the side-effects of making such a decision to take the job may put him through emotional turmoil, he needs to think about the present. People don’t live in the past, they don’t live in the future. People live in the present, at least they should. The current resident issue of their present is financial. So what if some meddling lustrous desires get in the way? Kyungsoo needs the money to support what has come to be his makeshift family.

 

The weight of the documents in his clutch returns as he finds himself back in the moment.

 

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll go do that now.”

 

“Kyungsoo,” Minseok stops him while he’s turning to find a corner to occupy. “Are you sure?”

 

His eyes have gone dead. He’s almost ready to give up on prompting Kyungsoo to find money elsewhere, but the thought of Jongin and his own eerily accurate intuitions of what’s to come keeps him on board until the last second.

 

“We need the money,” and that closes the topic of discussion.

 

He hopes it says enough to convince not only Minseok, but himself as well.

 

His application process and interview go surprisingly well, and he’s able to get up and working in no time.

 

Yifan and Minseok hurry to teach him the ropes and get him acquainted with certain appliances and coffee grounds before a mass influx of espresso-starved zombies take over the place.

 

“Okay, Soo.”

 

Kyungsoo tenses up at the sound of someone other than Jongin call him by that name, but unsettlingly enough, he can’t find it in his heart to be anything but pleased. He glances up at Yifan, and the other looks at him dutifully.

 

“What you are about to experience will age you five years, at a minimum. It’ll be so stressful, you won’t even have time to think about what goes into the order, your body will go into autopilot. Those monsters are ruthless, I tell you, ruthless! I’m feeling horrible that I brought you in to work _the hour_ as your first shift.”

 

Kyungsoo sighs, not all that bothered.

 

“It couldn’t be helped, I was eager to just do something productive anyways. Thanks.”

 

Kyungsoo and Yifan stand still in each other’s presence until the latter grabs his younger acquaintance’s hand.

 

“I can’t promise you it won’t be hectic, frantic, but I’ll be here to guide you every step of the way.”

 

And it’s the shimmer in Yifan’s eyes that almost make Kyungsoo wish he’d stayed home to grovel with Chanyeol, waiting for his lover’s return - _almost, but not quite._

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

150622

 

“All I’m saying is that you should appreciate my efforts to keep us all alive!”

 

It’s been a week since he left.

 

Seven whole days without Baekhyun, and Chanyeol’s deterioration is not slowing.

 

Seven whole days without Baekhyun leaves Jongin wishing he’d never come home that day.

 

Seven whole days without Baekhyun, yet Kyungsoo has already purged the thought from his mind.

 

There is something evil clawing its way out of his heart. He’s blinded by the false happiness he finds in Yifan, and frankly, there isn’t enough logic in his distraught mind to rediscover himself. The continued and somehow worsened neglect from Jongin doesn’t do him any good. It also doesn’t help that he has no best friend to seek guidance from, since one of them decided to bail and the other finds the closest thing to pleasure in the depressing dark of his room’s confines. Kyungsoo would prefer to blame his straying on the current emotional states of his housemates, but there’s a voice that sounds a lot like Minseok in his head, reminding him that, “ _This was your choice.”_ He would ideally favor the logic that Yifan is his shoulder to cry on in these sad ages, that the man only acts as his comforter in times of need. Others would beg to differ, seeing as hands roam farther than the friend-zone, and eyes gaze deeper into the soul.

 

Kyungsoo’s hyperaware of his wrongdoings, though he tries to convince himself otherwise. The guilt building up in acid that scorches his insides is just a constant reminder of how he fucked things up before anyone could know it. Breaking the news about Baekhyun to an already stressed Jongin had instantly brought him back to reality, the joyous fluttering inside dissolving at the sight of his lover’s disbelief turned insanity. The first day he was sympathetic, given that he sailed the very same ship hours before. In the days following, Jongin’s presence around the apartment became even more remote than before, and the empathy died out. The rare hours when the youngest is home are usually spent arguing with Kyungsoo and trying to stay out of Chanyeol’s way. The disputes always end with him slamming the door to isolation and Kyungsoo feeling infinitely worse about his rising infidelity. But somehow the remorse fails to outweigh the satisfaction of being attended to by Yifan.

 

Perhaps that’s why when Kyungsoo comes home from yet another extra shift at the cafe, the two engage in a bloody, heated fight worse than any that had taken place in the past week.

 

“What? Are you implying that I don’t care about you?”

 

“Oh, come on! Jongin, quit twisting my fucking words!”

 

“I’m not twisting anything!”

 

“Well it sure does feel like you’re twisting my arm to make this relationship work,” Kyungsoo sneers, eyes glaring.

 

Only when the fire in Jongin’s argument visibly deflates does he realise what he’s said.

 

“Oh, well if that’s how you feel, then alright,” Jongin succumbs, voice cracking and tears welling up in his eyes. “I guess I’m not worth trying for anymore.”

 

Exasperation floods Kyungsoo’s tone, “What are you saying? This is bullshit!”

 

“No, it’s not bullshit! You’ve been gone all day, every day of the week since Baekhyun left! Do you know how much Chanyeol needs you right now? How much I needed you?”

 

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you? At practice nearly 10 hours everyday, and you suddenly have the right to talk to me like this?”

 

“We already went over this! You said you understood!”

 

Rage continues to build, increase, take over, and then it slips.

 

“You probably just made an excuse to go off and let Oh Sehun fuck you!”

 

It is silent, eerily so.

 

But for bated breaths from both parties, it is silent.

 

“J-Jongin, I’m-”

 

“No, just… stop.”

 

“Baby, I’m so sorry.”

 

“You have lost the right to call me that, Do Kyungsoo.”

 

“Jongin!”

 

“I am _appalled_ right now, you know that? I asked you to trust me, and you accuse me of cheating? Are you out of your mind?”

 

“I didn’t mean-”

 

“Even in this time I’ve been alone and away from you, never once did I even consider the possibility of you being unloyal - not once”

 

Somewhere, Kyungsoo can hear Satan snickering at the irony of the situation

 

“I’ll admit that you’re doing the right thing by taking up work for money. I’m sorry for flipping out on you for not being here,” and the elder prays that Jongin is on the track to forgive him. “But that by _no means_ gives you any leeway to conclude that I am not faithful to you! Do you not remember what we promised each other when we became friends? We said we would always trust each other - _trust!_ Does it mean nothing to you now? Don’t you realise that’s what had kept us together all these years?”

 

Kyungsoo pleads, “I am so sorry.”

 

“I don’t know if an apology is going to fix this, honestly. I feel so betrayed, Kyungsoo.”

 

And it would be great if he could persuade Jongin to feel otherwise, but any words that come to mind are rendered useless when his lips are stapled shut.

 

“Speechless, are you?”

 

Jongin sighs and rakes a hand down his face.

 

“I never thought it would come to this, Soo. It makes me question whether you want me anymore.”

 

Finally something shocks him out of his reverie.

 

“Love, of course I want you! I didn’t mean to say it! I trust you with my entire being. I don’t know why it came out, I promise. I was just so irritated that you weren’t understanding where I was coming from and it happened. You are an angel, I know you’d never do that to me, Nini.”

 

Jongin suddenly lets a sob rip through his throat, tired of being the strong one for so long.

 

“I want to say it’s okay and that you were just stressed but I can’t! I’m not supposed to be able to forgive that easily, I’m not someone you can just push around!”

 

“Jongin, baby.”

 

Kyungsoo moves closer to the other and pulls him down to the bed. Two caring hands cup his cheeks, wiping away the spillage there.

 

“I know that you aren’t like that. You’re one of the most headstrong people I know,” he chides, earning a tiny chuckle and a few sniffs from Jongin. “Where could you have possibly gotten the idea that you aren’t independent enough?”

 

“U-um.”

 

“You can tell me, Nini. I won’t get mad.”

 

“You won’t?”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

He cracks a small smile.

 

“Yes, I’m sure.”

 

With a few more coaxing strokes to his face, Jongin answers in a barely audible whisper, “Sehun told me that you're just using me to your will, and that you order me around. He wants me to find someone else.”

 

Kyungsoo’s jaw drops and his eyes go wide as the Sun.

 

“That fucker, Oh Sehun!”

 

“Soo, you said you wouldn’t get mad!”

 

“But he’s the bane of my existence, that damned Oh kid!”

 

“Don’t call him that-”

 

“That idiot doesn’t deserve you! He hurt you like this!”

 

“But, Kyungsoo, you’ve hurt me worse.”

 

Jongin shuts him up quickly.

 

“I-I’m aware… and there aren’t a whole lot of things I can say to beg for your heart back, but I just want you to know that I love you so much and whatever I said right then, I did not mean. It wasn’t intended to hurt you, my love. I’m so sorry.”

 

With a long, drawn-out exhale, Jongin relents.

 

“I forgive you.”

 

A smile spreads its way across Kyungsoo’s face in white pearls, gleaming brightly.

 

“I love you.”

 

“You’re lucky I’m so whipped, or it would have taken weeks of remediation for you to get in my good graces again.”

 

Jongin rolls his eyes sarcastically and scoffs.

 

“I’m glad,” Kyungsoo mouths and leans in to his _rightful_ home, Jongin’s arms.

 

And while all is happy and good, this relentless thought of Yifan in place of Jongin doesn’t leave while Kyungsoo kisses him breathless.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

150627

 

The cafe is closing now. The hours between Friday and Saturday are quickly dwindling to an end.

 

Jongin isn’t expected to be home from rehearsals until the next afternoon. D-Day is approaching, and the professors are becoming more and more demanding. It’s practically Hell Week for all the dance majors, and every student languidly grazes around, devoid of life when they aren't on stage, in front of mirrors, or under a spotlight. While the young freshman sweats away with scrutinizing eyes all around him, Kyungsoo waits upon similar students of other interests.

 

The job is going well, and so is the pay given the fact that he takes up any extra hours he can stack on. Orders aren’t too particularly hard to craft - except when certain girls adorned in Converse, Daisy Dukes, and crop tops that expose too much skin request those stupid “secret” recipes. Boss is nice enough to let the auxiliary cord go to whoever is manning the counter as long as the music is considered clean. Besides the afternoon tsunami wave of customers, the flow in and out of the shop is fairly even and quite relaxing even. All in all, work is ideal for Kyungsoo, even if sometimes his school schedule conflicts.

 

But amongst the perfection of his day to day routine comes both the dread in his blood and the apple of his eye. Yifan with his near silver locks, toned build, towering height, sultry voice, soft eyes, and warm heart. The man stirs up a mess of desire in Kyungsoo’s body, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. It’s been an estimated three and a half weeks since his last night of intimacy with Jongin. His dick is really starting to feel cast aside, and is ready for some kind of release, any kind. So when Yifan approaches him with even just the slightest hint of lust in his aura, Kyungsoo forsakes all consciousness and morals and loses himself in the intensity of their painful sexual tension.

 

The tick of the second hand on some clock in the corner counts agonizingly slowly as Kyungsoo wills for it to tell him he can retire for the night and go home. Not many people are on the streets, much less in the cafe, and the lack of activity is causing his eyelids to droop. But while physically his body is exhausted, his mind is anything but. His senses are hyper aware of his workmate in the backroom, and he blesses curses whoever’s task it was to assign shifts and believed it was a jolly swell idea to put Yifan next to his sex-deprived self beyond midnight hours. There is a throbbing in the recesses deep in the back of his skull, pounding, pounding, pounding. The upper half of his body is lacing his arms in a straight jacket and commanding him to stay put and to stay loyal, but the lower half has intentions otherwise.

 

“Kyungsoo,” a voice slurs from behind him.

 

Obviously, someone is a bit more than turned on by the tired rasp in his name. It takes actual effort for him not to groan and revel in how absolutely provocative it sounded. But the ongoing internal conflict between sense and sensuality is still being battled, and Kyungsoo’s eyes remain trained on that subtle _tick, tick, tick,_ of the clock.

 

“Kyungsoo.”

 

The shorter male pivots around unable to resist the invitation, and practically eating up the other’s unkempt appearance with a bite of his lips. How sinful it would be to mesh them right against Yifan’s, tasting his sweetness. Oh, it’s becoming hotter and hotter as each second passes by. Morals cease to matter. Want takes over.

 

The last restraint is broken when an image of Jongin flashes like a red light in his head, but Kyungsoo disregards the sign like it means nothing in the moment.

 

Stupid Yifan with his stupid gloriously delicious voice

 

In the blink of an eye, Kyungsoo has already skipped the three steps to reach Yifan. Without much thought, he leaps onto him like a predator his prey and slots his mouth onto the taller’s. At first unsuspecting, Yifan jumps a little, but relaxes into passionate action. Their kiss is breathless, and rapidly progresses into something increasingly heated; something that sucks the energy right from their souls, but demands more, more, more. It’s all so careless as teeth clash against each other and bite down on roaming tongues. Kyungsoo can’t for the life of him remember the last time he’d been so undeniably feisty and so receptacle to touch. Wandering hands travel all over bodies, lurking under now unprofessionally worn white button ups and into the waistbands of briefs that are much too constricting. Curtained windows are still drawn back, and though the city is practically dead, the exposure does nothing but add to the excitement of being caught in such a compromising situation. Exploring, squeezing, trembling, moaning, so much is happening that there is no room for any just intercession.

 

“Oh, you are so sexy,” Kyungsoo pants as they pull away for breath, a string of saliva connecting them so sinfully.

 

A yank to his hair and the intensity of their makeout session resumes.With tingling lips, Yifan leaves his mouth and licks down to the crook of his neck. The trail of his tongue is so wet and it scorches his skin, burning it with the red flames of desire. Lust consumes Kyungsoo, engulfing him in displays of pleasure and prospects of ultimate satisfaction. The nipping at the sensitive skin of his neck encourages a voluminous growl, straight from his lungs. The animistic desire rages inside him and the boundaries of his body are tested to the limit as he grows harder and harder.

 

“Soo, Kyungsoo.”

 

The sight of a beautifully wrecked Yifan under his control causes Kyungsoo’s knees to wobble and hands to shake.

 

“What are we doing?” He pants in exhilarated disbelief, eyes blown and cheeks flushed.

 

Kyungsoo tackles him against the back wall, claiming temporary dominance, and effectively shuts him up.

 

“Why talk about it?” He purrs with a devilish spark in his pupils.

 

Yifan struggles with his next choice of words. He opens his mouth a couple of times, trying to get a statement out.

 

“Yifan,” Kyungsoo persists, impatient and half the way to nutting.

 

“Listen,” he gently forces the shorter off of him, intentionally creating distance between them. “We need to talk first.”

 

“What is there to talk about? Fuck, I just want you to touch me.”

 

“And that is _exactly_ what we need to talk about.”

 

Whining, Kyungsoo squirms in anticipation.

 

“Okay, fine. Hit me, and make it quick!”

 

“There’s no other way to say this, I guess.”

 

“Then just say it-”

 

“Aren’t you dating someone?”

 

If he were driving, Kyungsoo would have come to a screeching halt. He was not in any way expecting that.

 

“U-um, where did you get that assumption?” He stammers, struggling to appear unfazed.

 

Contrary to the front Kyungsoo tries to put up, his heart is racing wild as a stampede of horses. He’s sure there are suddenly five buckets’ worth of sweat on his brow. Does Yifan know?

 

Yifan clears his throat to dissipate the now awkward situation.

 

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

 

It’s an innocent question, really. But it brings back memories and a new nightmare Kyungsoo never thought he’d have to deal with.

 

“I-I do.”

 

“I thought there was a guy with you then?”

 

_Shit, he knows about Jongin._

 

“His name was something like Jongun… or something like that,” he trails off.

 

Bursting into forced laughter, Kyungsoo guffaws, “Jongun, that’s a new one! Listen, he’s just my b-best friend.” He pales, wanting to stab himself when he says it. “Jongin and I aren’t dating.”

 

_Yeah, because we’re engaged._

 

Anything for the D.

 

“You’re sure? I mean, he looked kind of completely smitten with you.”

 

“Yifan, I’m very sure. Now please,” Kyungsoo struts closer and paws at the other’s chest.

 

“ _I want you._ ”

 

Sin was satiated, skin was satisfied.

 

But at the end of the night, with warmth still pooling somewhere inside of him, Kyungsoo returns home to Jongin’s embrace.

 

His heart breaks when Jongin’s arms snake around his waist and squeeze tight, as if he were afraid to let go.

 

Maybe Kyungsoo needs Jongin as an anchor more than Jongin needs him.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

150701

 

Jongin feels half dead. Black circles his eyes like a panda, his complexion is pale as a ghost, somehow his hands have gone cold and clammy. Lights flash all around him as the stage technology students swarm around like a hive of bees, adjusting and readjusting various knobs, ropes, switches, and lights of all sorts. In his peripheral vision he spies his professor clad in a snapback and sweats, and he can’t help but admit to the inkling of contempt he has for the man, treating him and his fellow dance students like slaves. Jongin has half the mind to ditch the whole thing, drop out of school, and run home to Kyungsoo.

 

“It’s okay, Jongin. Just a couple hours more until life will return to normal,” he utters to soothe his aching body and soul. “All you have to do is play Kai for a few minutes onstage and accept the flowers from numerous fangirls. Then you can hightail your way over to Kyungsoo in the crowd.”

 

Jongin heaves a sigh while massaging the knots in his shoulders.

 

“I never would have taken up dancing back then if I had known this would be the result.”

 

“We both know that’s not true,” a painfully familiar voice pulls him out of his mental musing.

 

He risks a glance up, scared of whose face would meet him.

 

“B-Baekhyun!”

 

Jongin jumps up and flops onto the man, knocking the smaller to the ground. He hugs him with such intent that Baekhyun almost hears his ribs cracking.

 

He manages to wheeze out, “Jongin, you’re squeezing a bit too hard there!”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just,” a hand is offered to help the other up. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. Where have you been, you idiot! Chanyeol’s been withering away like a corpse slowly each day, Kyungsoo’s started as a barista at the cafe Minseok works at. Baekhyun, you’ve missed so much. Where were you?” he spits out all in one breath.

 

Salt caresses his tongue and Jongin realises he’s crying. Hard.

 

“Oh, Jongin. I wish I could tell you.”

 

“Then why don’t you? He wants answers, Baekhyun! He thinks you fell out of love with him! He blames himself for you leaving, and can’t even face me and Kyungsoo simply because of guilt. He needs answers, we all do!”

 

“Jongin, calm down!” He rubs the younger’s back, trying not to garner much attention. “Please believe me when I say it’s for the best. Please, let’s leave it at that.”

 

And Jongin, despite his urges and desperation, has always been trusting with his oldest best friend and relents when he recognizes the pleading in the other’s eyes.

 

“There better be a damn good reason for this, I swear.”

 

“Just believe me, okay? I’m sorry to put this burden on you, Jongin. I’m so sorry but it can’t be helped. Just don’t let anyone know you saw me, okay?” He begs, eyes teary.

 

Jongin pulls him into a tight embrace, stroking his hair softly.

 

“I know, I know. I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

 

In the few moments it takes for him to sober up - because Baekhyun had always been a strong person - it’s time for yet another runthrough of Jongin’s number.

 

Though he’s obligated by grades and money to dance, all he really wants to do is spend time with his best friend. Who knows when he’ll see him next - if he sees him again?

 

“Jongin, go. They’re calling you.”

 

“But you’re here!”

 

“And you have an exam. Besides, the only reason I came was to wish you luck.”

 

Jongin falls silent.

 

“Oh, cheer up. It’s not the end of the world.”

 

“Baekhyun.”

 

“Someone needed to at least try to lighten the mood up,” he jokes somberly.

 

“Kim Jongin!” His professor calls from round the corner.

 

“Better get going, our precious jewel.”

 

“I’ll miss you, Baekhyun. As much as I don’t want to, I’ll keep this meeting a secret. You can trust me,” Jongin sniffs and pulls him into his hold one last time. “We love you. You are always welcome back, no matter why you left.”

 

With a bittersweet smile, Baekhyun draws back and pats the taller’s head fondly. Curse his mother’s short genes.

 

“Take care of them, Jongin.”

 

And with that, he was off.

 

_Baekhyun doesn’t tell him about his flight to America the next morning._

 

Jongin tugs himself through the choreographed motions with not much more than a heavy heart and plagued mind.

 

Hours later, the sun has set and audiences are trickling in and buzzing with excited chatter to pass the time.

 

Nerves no longer have effect on him, after years of performing in front of family, friends, and officials alike. But just like any other person, the adrenaline of being on the stage for a crowd of people shouting his name makes its way into his veins and causes his legs to go shaky. Jongin’s nothing short of excited though, and can’t sit still (especially because his leather, skin-tight leggings are clinging to places they shouldn’t).

 

Soon, the lights dim and the first student flounces onto the platform with an elegant lilt in her step. The roster says that Jongin is up third, following Sehun. With a light chuckle, he wonders how Kyungsoo will fare being forced to watch him. He’ll probably call him something close to a “floppy, overcooked spaghetti noodle”. Jongin doesn’t exactly hold anything against his classmate, save for his disturbing words of how Kyungsoo was some kind of hypnotic monster. He shivers at the chilling thought. Sehun’s just trying to look after his friends, he reminds himself and shakes it off.

 

A roar of applause and Jongin feels at ease.

 

It’s time to shine.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the star of our freshmen class, Kai!”

 

He grins, breathtakingly so, and strides past Sehun, who claps him on the back with words of good luck.

 

His routine calls for a bright entrance with bursts of smoke, so he hurries to take position.

 

As Jongin folds himself into Kai, his eyes don’t need to search the ocean of people to spot exactly where Kyungsoo is; he can pinpoint that presence anywhere without so much as a glace up.

 

With the satisfaction of a quieting audience into silence, he nods at the stage manager to start the audio.

 

_We’re in ¾, Kai._

 

_Five measures before the lights come up, remember that._

 

An enchanting whistle plays softly in his ears, and he begins to sway ever so gracefully side to side.

 

_One, two, three. Two, two, three. Three, two three. Four, two, three. Five, two, three._

 

The instrument stops its singing for three beats of complete silence.

 

_Pause for effect._

 

_Now!_

 

A vivid display of red and blue strobes string across the field and the smoke machines play their part.

 

Jongin springs up from his kneeling position and throws his arms out.

 

_A powerful hawk soaring over the ocean’s expanse. That’s who you’ve gotta be._

 

_You are the one, Kai. Your wings are broader than any other._

 

The new melody is pounding through the speakers with an amplified bass on the offbeat. Fingers flare, toes point, hair is tossed. Kai’s sweat is flying everywhere, rolling in beads off his body. Enthusiasm reaches the mass of onlookers and urges even those on the streets to get a glimpse of the commotion.

 

Kai’s dancing is contagious, and he knows it.

 

_Just a minute longer and you’re all Kyungsoo’s._

 

_Just a minute. You’ve got this._

 

The music’s tempo increases, going faster and faster while Kai follows right along with ease.

 

_Thirty seconds._

 

_A spin here, then add a smirk to some girl on the ground for good measure._

 

A swoon and a couple beastly hollers echo back.

 

_Okay, Kai._

 

_Here it comes, grande finale._

 

With the performance winding to an end, he targets Kyungsoo’s eyes in the crowd. Instantaneously they meet and Jongin feels his world coming to completion. He’s home.

 

_Run._

 

_High kick._

 

_Death drop._

 

Kai’s back hits the stage with a thud, and the audience erupts in a crescendo of roars.

 

Satisfaction is all that courses in his blood.

 

_Well done, Kai._

 

_Well done._

 

And with a sparkling smile, Jongin returns as he bows in appreciation and flaunts his way down the stairs.

 

Not moments later is he barrelling into Kyungsoo’s arms after getting clearance from his professor and wishing fortune on the performer after him.

 

“Soo!” He pants, out of breath.

 

“Jongin! You were great up there!”

 

“I don’t care about that! All that matters is that things will be like before now! I’ll get to come home to you at regular times, I’ll be next to you at night, I’ll try to help you with dinner! It’ll all be okay! I’m so happy, Soo!”

 

On the outside, Kyungsoo’s got a grin plastered onto his lips. But inside, a whirlpool of emotions threatens to drown him.

 

Jongin is right, things should go back to normal.

 

No more escapades with Yifan fitting him against the wall of the freezer. No more sneaky closing time rendezvous on the counter. No more instances of hands pinned down to the floor while the older fucks him senseless against wood of Pine-Sol scent. None of that.

 

Kyungsoo regrets letting it get this far. Just a week in, and he’s accomplished more intimate levels with Yifan than with Jongin in five years. He should have stopped while he had the chance; it’s past the point of no return by now. But there’s something about the Chinese man that somehow stumbled his way into his life that he isn’t willing to put up for sale just yet. There’s no turning back now.

 

Guilt-ridden and struck with sympathy, Kyungsoo kisses Jongin deep and long to convey his complicated array of emotions.

 

“That’s right, love.”

 

The syllables get stuck in a lump in his throat and sound cacophonous leaving his larynx.

 

“ _Everything_ _will go back to normal._ ”

 

In this moment, Kyungsoo finds himself undeserving of someone so pure and loving as Jongin.

 

“Come, Nini. Let’s go home.”

 

How could the world be so cruel?

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

January 27th, 2016 ㅡ

Untitled

Entry Three

 

Our bodies work in miraculous ways. Breathing in oxygen, using it to generate energy, and manufacturing carbon dioxide that is exhaled out of our systems.

 

Eerily parallel to love, is it not?

 

Look around.

 

Everyone is just a reactant or a product here; often times both. All busy in our own little chemical equations, trying to follow the formula to a T.

 

But what happens when something is missing? What happens when in photosynthesis, there isn’t enough light? What happens when there is an absence of water? Not enough sugar is produced, no sugar is produced.

 

It’s just the same way in a relationship, is it not?

 

You don’t put your all in, you don’t get much out.

 

Then there are those parasitic types of symbiosis.

 

You pump the life out of my soul, and I do nothing.

 

Because I love you.

 

You benefit, I get left behind.

 

It works like that.

 

We always complain about teachers lecturing about things we’ll never use in the future.

 

Try again, sweetie. Read in between the lines next time.

 

It’ll save you from heartache.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

150918

 

_“Yifan!”_

 

_“Say it louder.”_

 

_“But that’s embarrassing!”_

 

_“Oh, come on. You know you enjoy the thought of those innocent, unknowing customers out there hearing you scream my name while I bang you against the wall.”_

 

_“Ah! You’re so- Oh, right there!”_

 

_“What’s that, baby?”_

 

_“You’re so dirty!”_

 

_“Take a long, hard look at yourself right now. Stretched out around my cock, bruised and swollen lips gaping, chest pressed on these thin walls. Go ahead and call me dirty again. I’m not the one begging like a slut for more.”_

 

_“Y-Yifan! I’m almost there!”_

 

_“I’m right there with you.”_

 

_“Oh, you feel so good!”_

 

_“You’re so tight.”_

 

_“So close, so close!”_

 

_“Whose are you, Soo? Whose bitch are you?”_

 

_“I’m yours! Only yours, Yi-”_

  


“Soo!”

 

Kyungsoo jolts awake, panting and sweating as if he ran a marathon.

 

It isn’t Yifan whose hands are gripping his shoulders. It isn’t his concerned eyes boring through Kyungsoo’s own. It isn’t his voice that shakes him awake from a shameful dream. No, Jongin is the one who hovers above him, with eyebrows knit tight in worry.

 

“What’s wrong, love? Is it a nightmare? Do you want me to grab iced water?”

 

“Nightmare?”

 

“You were trembling in your sleep,”Jongin frowns. “You kept making these weird, pained noises, so I thought maybe you had a nightmare or something.”

 

Kyungsoo chews on his lip.

 

“Something like that,” he decides.

 

Drawing his hands back into his lap, Jongin’s tension doesn’t resolve.

 

“Are you alright?” He treads on thin waters.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Kyungsoo sighs and runs fingers through sweat-laced hair. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

 

The younger fiddles with his thumbs and purses his lips clamped shut.

 

With much deliberation, he says, “You know you can talk to me when you need to, right?”

 

“Yeah, of course. What are you talking about?” Kyungsoo’s heart thumps wildly against his chest in trepidation.

 

“It’s just-”

 

Jongin takes a deep inhale, weighing his next words carefully.

 

“I feel like you should be relying on me more, I guess.”

 

He waits for any negative reaction, but gets nothing.

 

Gently and enthusiastically, “I mean, we’re getting married! We don’t know when just yet, but it’s happening. If you’re struggling with anything, you should be telling me. As someone who will be beside you in your long and prosperous future, I think that I should be helping you out in whatever ways possible.”

 

“So what are you trying to say?”

 

Kyungsoo’s statement is clipped. Jongin falters.

 

“Nevermind. I-It’s okay. Forget about it,” he murmurs, beginning to climb off the bed.

 

“It’s three in the morning, where do you think you’re going?”

 

Breathe in. Breathe out. No tears.

 

“I’m going to get that water.”

 

With a small click, Kyungsoo is left alone.

 

How do things progressively get worse each day? They supposedly were destined to repair themselves after this whole monumental showcase stopped soaking up Jongin’s free time. Instead, things have taken a turn for the worse. Life has been rockier than a wooden ship on turbulent waves.

 

Too much on his mind, Kyungsoo reaches for his phone.

 

A banner that lights up across his screen when he presses the home button catches his attention.

 

Upon opening it, a tickling inch of excitement flutters around inside him:

 

_Kim Minseok_

 

_I hate to bother you - especially when you should be with Jongin - but I urgently need you to come in if you see this. My grandmother was just admitted to the hospital and I need to check on her. Please come help out Yifan if you can. I promise I’ll owe you back. I’ll even pay for your service, I swear. Thank you so much, Kyungsoo!_

 

_(P.S. I’m checking the security tapes later. Don’t do anything that you don’t want Jongin to hear about.)_

 

_SENT 02:47 AM_

 

Though his common morals insist he should be guilty for using Minseok’s sick grandmother as an excuse to fuel his own scandalous affair, Kyungsoo can’t help but let the giddiness bubble up to his chest.

 

Much nimbler than Jack, he hastens to pull on semi-formal work attire and make himself at least appear half-decent.

 

As he rushes out the bedroom, he encounters a startled Jongin.

 

“What’s wrong? Are you hungry?” The younger interrogates with much less fire in his voice. Kyungsoo presumes he almost sounds exhausted, if the slight rasp and dark eye circles mean anything.

 

Jongin slumps over to him all dressed out in nice clothes, decked out in rare hair gel and cologne.

 

It doesn’t take long to put two and two together.

 

“Work?”

 

Kyungsoo hums; he doesn’t do much more to acknowledge him.

 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to go in until Monday.”

 

“Well-”

 

“You had the weekend off! I was going to take y-”

 

“Jongin, would you shut up? Not everything can conform to what you want.”

 

He effectively cuts him off, but doesn’t notice the frantic glaze in the dancer's weary eyes.

 

“Y-Yeah, sorry. I’ll just… go back to bed then. Come back soon, okay? Stay safe. Take the car. I love you.” He rushes to spew before the grenade planted in his heart explodes.

 

Dumbfounded, Kyungsoo simply stands in his place. If presented the opportunity, he wouldn’t be able to recall to anyone what just happened. Like the oblivious idiot he is, he watches Jongin’s retreating figure into the bedroom. Only a microscopic pang of woe hits him, but it takes just that much to come to his senses.

 

“Look, Jongin. Come here.”

 

Jongin has long since vowed to keep his independence and individuality, but his heart softens at Kyungsoo’s beckoning.

 

“Come, love.”

 

Tiredly wiping the water gathering at the line of his eyes, Jongin gives in and morosely wallows to his fiance.

 

“Yes?”

 

Kyungsoo invites him into open arms, and Jongin snuggles into the familiar scent of comfort. How he’s missed this.

 

“I’m sorry, Jongin. This one is pretty imperative.”

 

Immediately, the good samaritan in the now sophomore’s heart awakens.

 

“What? What’s happened? Is everything alright? Who is it? Rockhyun?”

 

“No, not Rockhyun. It’s Minseok’s grandmother. She’s been taken into the ER. He needs me to cover his shift. Says he’ll pay for it as well.”

 

“Oh, she’s such a kind person though! Tell him I’m wishing for her fast recovery, okay?”

 

“Of course,” Kyungsoo assures and let’s go of the younger. “I’d better get going then.”

 

“Yeah, get on your way, Soo.”

 

“Will you be alright?”

 

Jongin smiles to ease him.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got a big old teddy bear in the back to protect me if any burglars were to intrude.”

 

As if on cue, a rumbling snort comes from Chanyeol’s room and the two share a laugh.

 

“Really though, it’s okay. I’m sorry I made such a big deal over something so important like this.”

 

“You’re fine, Nini. Now go back to bed, it’s too early for your lazy ass to be up,” the elder jokes, trying to take some of the bite off his mind.

 

“Okay, okay. I hear you. Go bring home that dough, yeah? Don’t even think about me.”

 

After a short-lived goodnight peck, Jongin giddily skips back to the bed.

 

In silence, solemnity says salutations.

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t feel guilty, but rather relieved, and he knows it isn’t a good sign. Nothing ever is these days.

 

Forgoing Jongin’s advice, Kyungsoo decides to travel by foot. The walk to the cafe really isn’t one to be made alone, especially at some ungodly hour of a September dusk. Yet somehow, with the thought that Yifan would be in the near future, Kyungsoo feels infinitely more secure. He ends up cutting the fifteen minutes it takes to arrive at the door down by skipping his way there. All things Jongin are pushed to the farthest crevices of his mentality.

 

Yifan is alone and busy swiping at a table of crumbs when Kyungsoo pushes the door open with a chime of bells.

 

“Yes, just one second,” the employee dusts the rag off and drags his feet to the counter. His eyes are barely more than narrow slits. “What will it be?”

 

“Hm, I’m not feeling like a drink right now, but I’d appreciate it if you could give me something steamy.”

 

The familiar flirtatious tone causes Yifan to finally hone in on who is before him.

 

“Soo! Why are you here?”

 

“Minseok didn’t tell you?”

 

“I wasn’t expecting him to send you though. You know how for some reason he doesn’t like the prospect of us being alone together. He must be catching on.”

 

The statement freezes Kyungsoo’s heart on the spot.

 

“Anyways, I thought he’d get someone like Ryeowook or Hongbin to fill in for him.”

 

“Well, aren’t you a lucky one? Neither one of those two would give you what I can,” the shorter purrs, desperately wanting some action. “Why don’t we switch off those cameras and lights and get on with it? No one ever starts coming until around five, we’ll have so much time to draw this out.”

 

Unsure, Yifan offers a noncommittal shrug.

 

“Come on, _Daddy._ No one will ever know, _”_ Kyungsoo winks.

 

That’s all it takes for the other to lose all restraint.

 

With a firm grasp and a motive, he leads them both to the black box in the Boss’ office.

 

Too much happens that morning as the moon gives way to the sun.

 

Another mistake added to the list.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

January 27th, 2016 ㅡ

Untitled

Entry Four

 

Damsels in distress saved from fire-breathing dragons by knights in shining armor: that is love.

 

Fairy tales so often misconceive the concept of love.

 

Not everyone wishes upon a star, attends a royal ball, lives happily ever after. Not everyone gets the pixie dust, the magic wand, the glass slippers. Not everyone kisses a prince, sings with animals, transforms into a new being. It simply doesn’t work like that in the real world.

 

So why do people keep teaching the future generation so?

 

Why plant a seed of false hope in a bright child, only for it to be squashed under the shoe of a heartless tyrant?

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

151101

 

Kyungsoo has always had a sixth sense for remembering things about Jongin. What flavor soda he frequents on Friday nights, what scent of Calvin Klein cologne he spritzed on himself in high school, what his dance instructor’s name was in 2007. You name it, Kyungsoo knows it.

 

So why is it that he so often forgoes the thought of his fiance when he bows down to Yifan, a complete stranger up until a few months ago? What role besides a scandalous, tabloid-worthy affair does the Chinese foreigner hold in his life? Are a few nights of taking it up the ass really worth the consequence of sacrificing his long-time best friend and lover? What is he doing right now? Where did it go wrong? What happened to trusting each other forever?

 

A migraine plagues his mind as Kyungsoo battles with his mental berating and barrage of questions.

 

If only he and Jongin never walked into the cafe to meet Yifan once upon a time. Life wouldn’t be so full of disastrous secrets.

 

Jongin naps with his head in his lap, and Kyungsoo slithers his fingers through soft locks. It reminds him of their birthday celebration earlier in the year. Why can’t things be like that again? The growing distance between them is hardly subtle, and Chanyeol never fails to make it known with an obnoxious remark.

 

It’s become suffocating, knowing what grave sins he’s committing, and having to keep them from someone he once believed he could trust anything with. But the pricking at the back of Kyungsoo’s skull suggests that it can’t be any better on Jongin. If anything, it’s likely it affects him more. He hasn’t a clue what he’d done wrong - doesn’t even know that he’s done nothing wrong. All he knows is his fiance, the love of his life, is slowly slipping through his grasp like putty. There isn’t much else he can do besides his failed efforts to try to stop it. He’s taken the backseat, since it’s become crystal clear that Kyungsoo desires no help of any kind with his parasitic problems from him. Kyungsoo sees it too. He sees the helplessness in Jongin’s eyes every time he excuses himself to go to work, every time he turns down the offer to talk about his “issues”, every time he comes back home rugged and exhausted from something other than easy barista work. Jongin is at a loss and only prays that a God he doesn’t pledge faith to will have mercy and bring his darling back to him; Kyungsoo hears the soft mumbling and sniffles at night when he pretends to be asleep.

 

A snore startles Kyungsoo out of his musing.

 

He chuckles, moving his hand to stroke Jongin’s cheek.

 

How could he have given this up? The flustered freshman who befriended him six years back. The fourteen year old boy who made him question his sexual orientation. The one person who became his first and only love. The young man whom he willingly lost his virginity to. The dancer he proposed to, down on a knee and with the promise of an eternity together. Where did it all go?

 

Kyungsoo’s thumb is mid-cheek when Jongin lets out a whine and starts squirming to life.

 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Kyungsoo tilts his head to get a better look at his groggy prince.

 

Jongin rubs the sleep from his eyes, “Why didn’t you wake me? I’ve gone and slept half the day away.”

 

“Oh, hush. You’ve only been out for an hour.”

 

“But still,” he pouts, “You’re here with me and I fell asleep. I want to maximize the time I have with you.”

 

Somehow, the statement sounds accusatory and detrimental in Kyungsoo’s ears.

 

“ _Lie to him_ ,” the devil on his shoulder snarls as he panics internally.

 

“What are you talking about, Nini? We have forever to be together.”

 

“I-I know, I didn't mean that. I just miss you being around, that’s all.”

 

In his eyes, that faraway gaze he’s been favoring lately appears again.

 

“ _Go ahead Kyungsoo, keep lying. You see his face, go ahead and do it once more_ ,” this time the angel speaks, disappointment evident.

 

“In that case, why don’t we go out tonight?”

 

Jongin turns brighter than all Christmas lights of the country combined.

 

“Really? This is so exciting!”

 

“Yes, really. It’ll be great.”

 

“What are we doing?”

 

“What would you like to do?”

 

“Honestly, Soo, anything we do would more than satisfy me.”

 

“Oh, come on. You deserve more than just anything.”

 

_Especially since I’m putting you through this hurricane._

 

“Then in that case…”

 

In a matter of milliseconds, the pair are zooming out the door, donning attire of a similar autumnal color scheme. Their scarves flap in the wind as they rush like fallen leaves to their to-be-determined destination, noses tinged pink and cheeks glowing under the sun. The weather is just under harsh today, but the radiance from Heaven above has mercy on their ungloved hands. Love has never looked so ironically untainted.

 

Jongin’s fingers lace with Kyungsoo’s to tug him forward by slight force. It feels nice to finally be in control of at least something small in his life. Now as their hair whips around and slaps their faces, he realises he has no blueprint - no clue where to go or what to do. He didn’t even think to grab their wallets or phones in the midst of scrambling out of that cripplingly depressing apartment. All Jongin’s got on call is Kyungsoo, a beating heart, and a desire to enjoy this rare time with the love of his life.

 

They slow to a stop and walk until they can regain their breath.

 

Though he’s thoroughly enjoying every last drop of water Kyungsoo’s gives him, Jongin’s curiosity is piqued.

 

“Soo, can I ask you a question?”

 

Little does he know, that simple seven-word sentence causes mountains of rupture inside the other.

 

Kyungsoo anxiously fiddles with his thumbs.

 

He grinds his teeth, and instantly Jongin keys in.

 

“You’re nervous? What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m not nervous. What are you going on about, Jongin?” He chuckles, shoulders tense.

 

“If you say so,” Jongin brushes the topic off, but remains suspicious. No need to ruin the afternoon before it’s started. “But I still want to ask something.”

 

Kyungsoo gulps, “Go ahead, love.”

 

_You filthy cheat._

 

“Why all of a sudden did you want to go out today?”

 

The lack of a reply makes for an uncomfortable silence that neither of the pair want to put up with.

 

“I mean, I’m not complaining. I’m just… wondering. That’s all.”

 

“Yeah, I know. I just thought you deserved a day out. We haven’t been on a date in a while, so I wanted to do something with you.”

 

A toothy grin smacks itself on Jongin’s face.

 

“You’re so sweet, you know that? I love you.”

 

_Lie to him._

 

“I love you too, Nini.”

 

The rest of the day is spent scurrying around various sidewalks and acting as children playing hide and seek behind trees of amber, auburn, and apricot. It’s the most fun Kyungsoo’s had in months. It’s the most in love he’s been in months. And when they get home, it’s the most intimate with Jongin he’s been in months.

 

He’s never felt worse.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

151127

 

“Soo!” Jongin whisper-yells to the end of the hall. “Get your butt over here!”

 

From their bedroom comes a sleepy groan.

 

“Nini, he’s not even awake yet.”

 

From his spot in front of Chanyeol’s door, Jongin stomps his foot angrily. He did not spend his beauty sleep hours perfecting a cake that wouldn’t poison the three of them for nothing. He balances the delicacy in one arm and frustratedly glares at the wood. In eight heavy steps, he readies his brigade for attack. Once in the doorway to his own room, he openly glares at the lazy ass on the bed, under _his_ finely chosen sheets.

 

“Do Kyungsoo, if you don’t haul yourself out of that bed, your dick is in trouble!” He hisses dangerously.

 

Sensing the serious threat, Kyungsoo’s eyes instantly open.

 

“Alright, alright! I’m up, Jongin!”

 

“Then you better be in position, just like we practiced, in promptly fifteen seconds,” Jongin orders as he returns to Chanyeol.

 

Reluctantly heaving himself up onto his haunches, Kyungsoo slaps himself half-awake.

 

“If only you hadn’t spent so much time bent over against the counter last night,” he reprimands himself.

 

Encounters with Yifan have started happening so often, there’s no chance for going back. He’s accepted his ludicrous fate. From their date at the beginning of the month, his relationship with Jongin has been rebuilding itself progressively. But it’s not like anything has been fixed. Kyungsoo’s just become a certified expert in lying.

 

“Kyungsoo!”

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

 

Five minutes and a quick choreography rehearsal later, Jongin deems them ready.

 

“Remember, Soo. Right, right, left, right.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just do this shit.”

 

Kyungsoo knocks three times, concise and timed.

 

There’s no answer.

 

“What?”

 

“He’s probably out cold. Just go in. We’ll surprise him.”

 

“Fine, but-”

 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

 

The voice startles them to death. Kyungsoo shrieks and falls to the ground, while Jongin nearly drops the cake when steadying himself against the wall.

 

Chanyeol towers tall behind them, a brow quirked in question.

 

“Chanyeol! What the fuck, man!”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“What are you doing out here?”

 

“Am I not allowed to be awake? It’s already seven o’clock.”

 

“You’re usually not awake until eleven!”

 

“Um.”

 

“Do you know how much I prepared for this?” Jongin wails.

 

“I-”

 

“I bet you didn’t know he didn’t sleep at all just to bake something edible.”

 

“I’m so-”

 

“No! I’m not standing for this! I won’t accept half-assed apologies just because you feel obligated! Don’t think that you don’t have to respect others because it’s your birthday. You don’t get that kind of special privilege!”

 

“Yeah, you stupid giant!”

 

“Woah, woah, woah. Chill out, children.”

 

Chanyeol gently ushers them away from his body.

 

“Chill out?”

 

“We will not chill out.”

 

“Jonginnie, I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Jongin huffs and turns away to place the cake somewhere safe from his wrath.

 

Kyungsoo follows after, “Yeah, don’t call him that.”

 

Chanyeol thinks Kyungsoo looks awfully annoying and childish with his tongue out like that. Since when did he become the most mature?

 

“Anyways, I think I’m going to shower. Um, have fun with whatever it is you were planning to do,” he rushes the words out of his mouth and slams the bathroom door shut, eager to save himself from the combined destruction of KaiSoo.

 

In the kitchen, Jongin exclaims, “This idiot! I do so much for him and he ruins it all!”

 

“He’s just a loaf of bread. Unsliced.”

 

“We can’t waste the cake like this. It’s not going to be as fluffy or moist if we stick it in the refrigerator.”

 

A mischievous glint shimmers in Kyungsoo’s eyes.

 

“I have a proposal to make.”

 

“Oh?” Jongin smirks.

 

“In response Birthday Boy’s mistake, why don’t we simply eat it without him?”

 

“Ah!” The younger brightens up with the new revelation.

 

“We made sure he knew just how much time you spent on this, yet he went to take a shower anyways.”

 

“You’re right, you absolute genius.”

 

Jongin grabs two glasses from the cabinet and pours them half-full with milk.

 

“With the wise words of Marie Antoinette, let them eat cake.”

 

“And eat cake they shall.”

 

Kyungsoo and Jongin laugh, clinking their forks together, pinkies up.

 

From the bathroom - either because the couple is much louder than need be or because his ears are superhuman - Chanyeol bangs his head on white tile in exhaustion.

 

“Lord, have mercy. Prepare me for what’s in store.”

 

When Chanyeol switches the knob off, makes himself presentable, and shapes up for Greeting KaiSoo: Take 2, the younger couple are munching happily on what smells awfully alike to his birthday cake.

 

“Is that?”

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“You bet it is.”

 

All he can do is stand there, captured in disbelief.

 

“You know what, I’m not even going to ask.”

 

Jongin shrugs, “That’s probably the best idea.”

 

“What are we doing today?”

 

Licking his spoon clean, Kyungsoo scoffs.

 

“It’s not like we planned the entire day around you.”

 

“Well, technically, I did. But after this morning’s fiasco, I no longer have the heart.”

 

Calm and collected, he blows a raspberry at the older.

 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes.

 

“Such children,” he sighs and pulls on a cap and jacket.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Does it matter to you?” He claps back at Kyungsoo.

 

“Guess not.”

 

“I swear, you two are insufferable.”

 

Chanyeol shuts the front door and shakes his head.

 

“We just love you a lot!” Jongin, ever pure, hollers.

 

“Should we follow him?”

 

“Is that even a question?”

 

And so the journey begins.

 

After some careful stalking and disgraced looks from strangers on the street, Kyungsoo and Jongin halt.

 

“It appears that Park Chanyeol’s first birthday destination is the Hong’s flower shop.”

 

“Interesting choice.”

 

“Why would he need flowers? It’s his birthday.”

“Who knows? We’ve gotta remember how eccentric he is. This is a normal thing for that alien.”

 

More snooping around leads to Chanyeol purchasing a new guitar at Guitar Center.

 

“Kyungsoo? Why is he buying another one?”

 

“Don’t ask me. I thought Marley and Leo were completely fine.”

 

“This is communism.”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“But really, what in the world could he need a brand new guitar for?”

 

“God only knows, Jongin. God only knows.”

 

The next stop is five miles away from the town square buzz, where Chanyeol originally strolled around.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with Chanyeol? Why didn’t he take a car? My feet are killing me!” Kyungsoo complains.

 

“I know, I’m so tire- Kyungsoo, look! He’s sitting down!”

 

The oldest does indeed sit. He perches himself against the large trunk of a tree. The flowers rest as they are gently placed beside him. Chanyeol unhooks the clips on the case for the guitar and tunes it by ear; he’s always had a knack for perfect pitch. The next thing he does is quite odd.

 

“Is Chanyeol talking to himself?” Jongin examines him closely, baffled.

 

The two inquisitives steadily trek their way to the older, hiding themselves behind broken branches and makeshift leaf helmets.

 

Once within approximately ten meters distance, they tune in to Chanyeol’s melancholy soliloquy.

 

“It’s been awhile since we’ve spoken. Hasn’t it, love?” He stops and reclines his head against the bark of the willow.

 

“Will we ever meet again? I feel like I’m crumbling under the pain of you no longer being by my side. I thought the worst of it was over when I was able to make it out of the house without sobbing. It seems though, that I made a false assumption. When Kyungsoo and Jongin were still having their lovers’ dispute - whatever it was - it was much easier to cope. Perhaps it was malicious logic, but it comforted me to know that at least I wasn’t the only one hurting. Now though, since they’ve repaired what they needed, I’m all alone again.

 

It was wrong of me to presuppose we’d be together forever.

 

Did I pressure you? Was that it? Did I make you feel trapped, like you had no other choice? Who was I to make you feel so obligated? Why didn’t I see it on Valentine’s Day? Why couldn’t I recognize it?

 

Why am I so stupid?

 

I’m so pathetic, hoping that if I returned to this place where I confessed to you, you’d come back.

 

This is reality, not some fantasy where you can appear out of thin air. No sacrifice, no offering, no serenade or bouquet of floral arrangements can bring you back. Believing it was possible was a foolish thought of mine.

 

I don’t blame you. If somewhere out there, you’re feeling guilty, please don’t be. Our relationship always valued freedom, didn’t it? I’d be going against our shared morals if I kept you with me against your will. So I’m glad you were strong and independent enough to make that decision for yourself… Even if I hoped you would have talked to me about it prior to then.

 

But still, I don’t hate you.

 

No, I could never hate you.

 

You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me. To that lanky, stressed out student you met in the market.

 

In a way, I am thankful for the boost of maturity your absence has given me. I grew up; realised that eternal happiness can’t always be a thing. That hardships will come with life.

 

I’m retiring Marley and Leo today.

 

I associate too many memories of you with them. My fingers itch to pluck at him, but when I think of you singing along the first time you urged me to play Leo for you, they are scalded by his strings. Even without her beside me now, I can’t even bring myself to imagine Marley in my mind. You were the one who so cautiously chose her for me. How can I continue picking at the scar by resting her on my lap again. It would be like holding you, but not quite.

 

So I bought a new guitar.

 

She’s a sleek, glossy black.

 

Her name is Luna.”

 

Chanyeol stops to strum a few patterns, forming chords with every move of his fingers.

 

“Sounds lovely, doesn’t it?

 

I feel as though something is missing.

 

I can’t quite place it.”

 

His eyebrows furrow in concentration and solicitude.

 

“What is it? What is it?

 

I don’t know what it is!

 

What is it!”

 

At the sudden bout of panic, Jongin rises to console their best friend.

 

“Jongin, no.”

 

“Soo! He’s about to have an anxiety attack! Look at him! We’ve gotta calm him down.”

 

“No, Jongin. He has to overcome it. This is the only way he’ll move on and become stronger.”

 

Hesitantly, Jongin recoils, nodding his head and heeding to Kyungsoo’s words.

 

“I think- Baek, I think it’s you,” Chanyeol whispers, voice full of devastation. “It’s you. Your voice is missing.”

 

The only sound in the wind is the crisp crinkling of leaves, the bristle of the breeze, and Chanyeol’s wheezing.

 

“I miss you, love. I miss you like the sun misses the moon. I miss you like a moth misses a flame. I miss you like a runner misses the track.

 

I just want to know why.

 

Why did you leave? Why can’t I find you? Why am I still so hung up?

 

I know I’ll never fall out of love with you, but one day I hope I’ll be able to proclaim it from the rooftops once more without breaking down into a mess of tangled emotions.”

 

And the volume of his cries subside as tears silently slip down his reddened cheeks.

 

“Come,” Kyungsoo gestures to Jongin.

 

As if they were approaching a lone deer in the woods, they very laggardly make their presence known to Chanyeol.

 

“Hey, Yeol.”

 

He looks up, frightened at his vulnerability.

 

“I-I’m-”

 

“It’s okay,” Jongin hushes him, gathering his long limbs and all and squeezing. “You’re going to be alright.”

 

Overwhelmed, Chanyeol begins to sob again.

 

Kyungsoo soothes the shaking of his body by rubbing his back in comfort.

 

“Come on, Chanyeol. We’ll take care of you.”

 

When later that night Kyungsoo checks in for a shift with Minseok at the cafe, he does a lot of reflecting.

 

Today’s angst-filled events acted as a wake up call.

 

The effect of Kyungsoo’s every traitorous action with Yifan behind Jongin’s back was shown pretty evidently. How easily he could wreck his fiance, if only he found out about his affair. He’d always known something horrible would happen if somehow word got to Jongin that he betrayed his trust, but the day’s occurrences made everything _real._ These things happen, and they very well could happen to him. There are consequences to his choices. Karma is sure to bite him in the ass, it’s simply a matter of time.

 

It doesn’t take much more for Kyungsoo to realise he’s being chased by an hourglass that measures an elapsed time unknown to him.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

151130

 

A lot can happen in a year.

 

On the outside, it doesn’t look like much has changed in the last dozen months. However, Kyungsoo is well aware that’s not the case. If anything, no stone has been left unturned; everything has changed in some way. Pain somewhere along the way melded into one body with Pleasure. For the better or for the worse, he no longer can differentiate between the two. He’s become desensitized to his own lies, being able to rattle off a random excuse without a thought in his brain at all. Kyungsoo doesn’t doubt that his sins will crucify him eventually, but the ride there has been much too thrilling to stop now.

 

Twelve months ago, Kyungsoo was head over heels in love with the college freshman of his dreams. He kept the emotions locked away in his heart, but with the help of Chanyeol’s stupidity and Jongin’s straightforwardness, they were released into the world with a sweet aroma and displays of fireworks. On that day, all those weeks ago, Kyungsoo never prophesied something, not even a supernatural force, could come between them. He definitely never believed it would be him to mess everything up.

 

Kyungsoo was always so infatuated, but look where he is now.

 

He sighs, starkly contrasting the high energy and joy that should be felt upon reaching a major relationship milestone: the first full year.

 

Jongin’s got classes stacked all over each other today, and had to cancel the candlelit, rose-petaled dinner Kyungsoo’s agenda planned to accomplish by the end of the night. For once, the roles are reversed, and it doesn’t feel so great.

 

How often has Jongin stayed silent and resigned for the sake of their stability?

 

Struggling to remain aloof to his own crisis, Kyungsoo grunts to himself.

 

Here’s to a night alone.

 

A night, compared to Jongin’s extensive repertoire of many.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

151231

 

Kyungsoo’s most grave mistake is indirect.

 

It’s December 31st.

 

Christmas came and went, but not without sprinkling Santa’s jolly spirits upon them to last throughout the rest of the holiday season. Even after his flunked anniversary attempt, Kyungsoo’s optimism remained at a high. Jongin mirrored, and it was as if the past half year of torment had never happened. At least, it would be if it wasn’t for the sneaky brushes Kyungsoo and Yifan snuck each other under table tops at work. Virtually, nothing was out of place.

 

But perhaps Kyungsoo should have contemplated the fact more intensely before inviting a certain Kim Minseok to their New Year’s Party.

 

“Kyungsoo, help me hang these streamers up!” Chanyeol calls from the main leisure area.

 

Said person stalks his way into the living room, crosses his arms, and narrows his eyes at the elder atop the sofa.

 

“Is that supposed to be an attempt to demine me?”

 

Holding back obvious laughter, Chanyeol coughs out in between wheezes, “What ever are you talking about, dear friend? What reason do I have to degrade you?”

 

Kyungsoo revels in the mental imagery of an eyebrowless Chanyeol. Oh, the lavishing beauty of it.

  


“Shut up, Chanyeol. You know I can’t reach up there.”

 

Finally busting free from his restraining handcuffs of self-control, the giraffe chokes on unflattering guffaws. They distort his face with mountainous wrinkles and crevices never known to exist before.

 

“You’re so ugly, ew,” Kyungsoo comments and scrunches his nose in distaste. “And boy, get your filthy, unsocked feet off my couch cushions! Stop messing around, we’ve got people coming in a couple hours.”

 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes (which somehow always seem to be protruding as if he were high on some nice shit and not just on a caffeine-induced hype).

 

“What a hypocrite. You’re telling me I’m messing around? Kyungsoo, you haven’t done squat.”

 

“You don’t know that,” he retorts.

 

“I know that all you’ve been doing is slipping your perverted hands into poor Jonginnie’s slacks while he’s trying to put together our food. That, my friend, is not being productive at all. If anything, you’re only deterring his work ethic.”

 

“Chanyeol, quit acting like you know everything.”

 

“Shut up, Kyungsoo. You know I’m the guru here if anyone is.”

 

“Whatever you say, age doesn’t equal intelligence,” the younger sasses back and trots to the kitchen.

 

“Hey! What happened to helping with the decorations!”

 

Scoffing, Kyungsoo flips imaginary locks of hair, “You lost your chance a long time ago.”

 

Chanyeol sputters.

 

“But!”

 

“No buts! Should have thought about it before poking fun at my height.”

 

“Fine then! I’ll just do it alone.”

 

“Fine!”

 

“Fi-”

 

A thunderous slam resounds like a bomb within the walls of the room.

 

The two dweebs’ heads fly to look at the other’s.

 

Shit.

 

“What _the fuck_ is going on here?” An enraged Jongin storms out of the hallway, hands on hips and eyes on fire.

 

Chanyeol and Kyungsoo don’t move an inch.

 

A mad Jongin is a scary Jongin.

 

“Well? Anyone care to explain or am I going to have to not only castrate, but cook both your juniors?”

 

“Jongin! It’s all a misunderstanding!”

 

“Yeah!” Chanyeol hooks an arm around his younger companion’s neck. “We’re the best of buds!”

 

“I’m not stupid like you two. I know what was going on.”

 

Kyungsoo shoves the limb off his shoulder and spits in his face.

 

A harsh glare from his fiance stops his antics from going further.

 

“Listen, because I’m going to make this very clear.

 

Tonight we have guests coming at nine. Nine as in four hours.

 

Let that sink in, alright?

 

Four hours.

 

Four hours to twist streamers onto the ceiling, four hours to polish up the living room, four hours to find a good New Year’s channel, four hours to make an appropriate playlist for the occasion, four hours to run and buy alcohol, four hours to whip up some kind of food, four hours to confirm who is showing up, four hours to shower and get ready, and the list goes on.

 

Now, dear bitch best friend and fuckface fiance, are we going to behave accordingly?”

 

“Yes, Jongin!” The two salute, fearing for their lives.

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

He scouts Chanyeol’s wallet from the bowl on the table.

 

“Go buy your liquor.”

 

“Gladly,” the tallest whistles and waltzes to the door. “Have fun hanging those streamers up, midget.”

 

With a mocking slam of the door, he’s gone and Kyungsoo’s fury threatens to burn the clothes off his skin.

 

“Soo.”

 

Relaxation unfurls the angry barrier grasping his heart at the soothing sound of Jongin’s voice calling his name.

 

He hums.

 

“Come with me, let’s put these up,” he persuades with the paper decorations in hand. There is no dosage of teasing in his tone. “It needs to get done either way.”

 

A brilliant idea pops into Kyungsoo’s Einstein brain like a bright lightbulb.

 

“What if instead I use them to tie you up. Sound fun?”

 

The spark in Jongin’s eyes and a curl of his finger brings the older nearer to him.

 

They get closer, closer, closer until Jongin can whisper into his lover’s ear.

 

“Let me tell you something,” he smirks.

 

His lithe fingers trail up Kyungsoo’s spine as if they have minds of their own.

 

“You. Are. So.”

 

For good measure, he breathes heavily and moans just a tiny bit.

 

Whack!

 

“Stupid.”

 

Caught off guard, yet still turned on, Kyungsoo’s bodily mechanisms seem to fail on him and he can only stand in place with his mouth agape and eyes glazed over. The miniscule pinch of pain on the back of his head reminds him what just happened, but he doesn’t care about anything but the heat in his pants.

 

“Jongin!” He whines childishly. “You flirt!”

 

“Whatever, you moron. I already told you what’s on our to do list.”

 

“But, Nini!”

 

The younger rolls his eyes, but smacks his lips against Kyungsoo’s in a quick kiss.

 

“That will have to suffice, okay? Maybe later we’ll commemorate 2017 with some fun, but for now you’ll have to wait, you big baby.”

 

“I love you.”

 

_Lie._

 

“Of course you do. I love you too, Soo.”

 

Fortunately for Jongin and the rest of his party, all things eventually get checked off the to do list within minutes of the deadline.

 

They aren’t expecting too many people, since only Minseok and a couple others responded to the invitation via text.

 

The doorbell rings, and Jongin immediately perks up to answer with a dominant, “I’ll get it!”

 

Kyungsoo, from his spot on the couch, watches him go with a slight chuckle and a smirk.

 

“Jongdae! So glad you could make it!”

 

Inwardly, Kyungsoo groans. Not Jongdae.

 

“I was psyched when you hit me up, it’s been awhile since we’ve hung out!”

 

“There’s a reason for that,” the college junior mutters into his hand.

 

It’s not that their neighbor is the devil - his name isn’t Oh Sehun. But Jongdae is one word: _loud_. When he and Baekhyun would get together for some voice project, the boy would be exceptionally talented when singing, but when he wasn’t he would be obnoxiously voluminous.

 

“I’ve missed you!”

 

“Yeah, well if it weren’t that little grump over there,” he waves with a Chesire Cat grin at a sulky Kyungsoo in the corner. “We could have met up!”

 

Jongin and Jongdae share a common sense of hilarity and laugh together.

 

“Oh, fuck no. It’s starting already!” He whimpers as he slaps hands to his head. “If you’re going to come over, why don’t you bring a pair of earmuffs?”

 

“No,no, no. You’re not taking my precious ear plugs. You obviously don’t know how loud you two are. Seriously, it’s been okay lately, but before! Man, Kyungsoo, you must have so great hips or something. Jongin here is a screamer! Better than any of the chicks I’ve brought home,” Jongdae wolf whistles with a hand to his forehead. “How does Chanyeol deal with it, I swear.”

 

As if on cue, the said man walks in with a beer bottle in his possession.

 

“I promise you, I don’t deal with it. They don’t know this, but every time they go at it, I take the liberty of taking a nice long walk down to Junmyeon’s apartment.”

 

Jongdae blushes at the mention of his now graduated senior.

 

“How is he?” He asks, starstruck.

 

“He’s fine and dandy. Can’t say he talks about you as much as you him though.”

 

“Tragic! He told me I was the best underclassman he ever tutored!”

 

Kyungsoo pulls Jongin in close to whisper behind his hand, “Wasn’t he the only student he ever tutored?”

 

“Shush, he doesn’t need to know that.”

 

“Well, perhaps you can inquire about your oh so disastrous disappointment when he gets here.”

 

“No one told me he’s coming!”

 

“Told you who’s coming?”

 

Miraculously getting the door unlocked - or maybe just because Jongin forgot to shut the door in the midst of hype - Junmyeon enters the scene.

 

“Myeon!”

 

“Dae!” He returns through gritted teeth and false excitement, alarmed eyes shot towards Jongin. “No one told me you were going to be here!”

 

“Soo, be my human shield. Junmyeon’s glare is piercing through my soul!” Jongin shrieks.

 

“Come with me, Myeon! We need to have a long chat!”

 

Dragged off and away to the snacks resting innocently on the countertop, Junmyeon has no choice but to give himself up to Jongdae’s will.

 

In the living room, the original trio anticipate their next guest after shaking off their older friends’ oddities.

 

“I say it’s Taemin.”

 

“You invited him?”

 

“No. Jongin. You did not invite him.”

 

“What’s wrong with Taemin?”

 

Kyungsoo flops his arms around bonelessly.

 

“He’s creepy! An actual snake, I tell you!”

 

“How dare you insult him!”

 

“Kyungsoo is right, Jongin. Taemin is a bit… on the supernatural side of things.”

 

“Hush, you two. Everyone deserves love. I am accepting Taemin for his flaws and shortcomings. No one else ever even tries to hold a decent conversation with him!”

 

Right away, three slow knocks come tapping at wood.

 

“Fuck this shit, I’m out!” Chanyeol hops off the sofa with legs of a jackrabbit.

 

Jongin’s arm flies out to catch him by the waist.

 

“Answer the door.”

 

“No!”

 

“Answer it.”

 

“Jonginnie!”

 

“Chanyeol, answer the door.”

 

Kyungsoo struggles to keep his giggles from spilling in the forgotten corner of the room, “Yeah, Chanyeol! Answer the door!”

 

“I hate you, Do Kyungsoo.”

 

A twist of the knob and Lee Taemin is bared to their sight.

 

“Sssalutationsss, citizensss and friendsss of Jongin,” he practically hisses, his consonants heavy.

 

“Uh, hey!” Chanyeol tips his hat, being the gentleman he so naturally is inclined to be.

 

“Let our guest in, Chanyeol.”

 

“Ah, Jongin,” Taemin comments, heading to his dance history classmate.

 

“Oh, dear Satan, he actually slithers.”

 

Deadly daggers are delivered directly to Kyungsoo through Jongin’s fatal glare.

 

“Taemin! Nice to see you this evening.”

 

“Of courssse. It isss an absssolute pleasssure to be here.”

 

Jongin offers a pat to his back and leads him to the refreshments.

 

“There’s food here on the table and alcohol in the cooler! Help yourself to anything else, got it? I’ll be here if you need me!”

 

Another guest arrives, and the notification on Jongin’s cell tells him it’s Minseok. Again, the youngest scurries to greet his friend and welcome him in.

 

“Minseok!”

 

“Thank God, it isn’t some weirdo off the streets,” Chanyeol and Kyungsoo fuss to each other.

 

“Hey, Jongin! I’ve missed you at the cafe!”

 

“Yeah, I don’t want to bother Kyungsoo at work! We need the money, and I’m willing to sacrifice a few hours away from him. He’s so earnest; I’m lucky to have him.”

 

Jongin’s eyes are so filled with hope and adoration that it kills Minseok to know what’s going on behind his back.

 

“No, Jongin. It is Kyungsoo who is lucky to have you,” he points out, reiterating what he’s told the other times before with an increase of his volume. “You obviously love the trainwreck enough to marry him!”

 

The other barista chuckles nervously, “Hah, you’re so funny, Minseok. A real knee slapper right there!”

 

“Anyways, let’s catch up! I don’t think we’re expecting anyone else.”

 

Hours pass, and most everyone drinks to their death. Only Jongin remains sober, being the designated driver even if the gathering is held at his own home. He’d always had negative opinions about the effects of alcohol. The fact that once it's coursing through your body it could mess you up real bad had never appealed to him. His father taught him about different drunks when he was younger, as a cautious warning about how people stimulate major transfigurations when under the influence. There are the flirts, the down in the dumps, the withdrawns, the venters, and the list goes on and on. From years of being observant, he’s come to recognize and remember what types his acquaintances are.

 

Kyungsoo, though not intoxicated too often, becomes a deadweight slump of sleep when he’s drunk. Luckily for Jongin, not too many negative impacts come with that.

 

The depressing, docile, downers include Chanyeol and Jongdae. Recently it isn’t safe to let the tallest touch the liquor stash, for Baekhyun-related purposes, and Jongin would rather not have to deal with a runaway partygoer. He’s the more seriously saddened person when inebriated. As for Jongdae, his drunk persona is a more comical front. With beer in his system, the boy sobs and slobbers all over the shoulders of whoever finds themselves unfortunate enough to be next to him. At their circle’s get togethers, it’s always Junmyeon, the misfortunate fellow.

 

Taemin is an interesting one, Jongin soon finds out. Unlike his day to day ghostly self, a simple sip of San Marino sugars him up. He goes from 0 to 100, from sex offender to slut, real quick. The dance student inside his heart bursts free from its disguise, and somehow the alcohol changes his physical appearance as he grinds up against various surfaces - kitchen appliance and spooked guests - throughout the house. Jongin vows he’ll make Chanyeol clean whatever bodily fluid mess Taemin leaves in the bathroom tomorrow morning, hungover or not.

 

Complications arise when Junmyeon is under the influence. Hardened into an impenetrable rock, his eyes often glaze over in some distant fairytale land eons away. According to Jongdae’s woes and worries recorded in his Drunken Diaries tapes, that very softness translates to love meant for some pretty woman with a shiny degree and a tolerable office job as a secretary or receptionist. With such implications in mind, the simpering sap wails himself into more and more Budlight. No one ever really knows what goes on in Junmyeon’s stern silence during these times, but he comes off a far cry from “in love”.

 

For being the oldest, most mature person in the group, Minseok does not represent his role very well at all. Unable to hold himself together with poison in his system, he turns into a giggly, gargling fit of confessions, drama, apologies, and endless other mishaps. He is what you could call “The Combo”. Synonymous to cheese, sausage, mushrooms, peppers, and olives fit snug onto one slice of pizza, Minseok claims every quality of a spacy drunkard. Not to mention he becomes clingy and impossible to unstick from.

 

By the time the clock chimes the half hour bell to midnight, Jongin has a lap full of an unconscious Kyungsoo. He engages himself in idle, but amusing conversation with the oldest in their group.

 

“You know, Jonginnie?” Minseok hiccups with a slow grin.

 

Sensing the lighthearted blackmail material, Jongin perks up.

 

“What is it?”

 

“When Junmyeon and I were back in university,” he garbles and laughs airily into his hand.

 

“What about it?”

 

“There was a rumor circulating in our legal services class that he was sleeping with the professor’s assistant to keep his A!”

 

He erupts in choking chortles that having him huffing so hard he begins to hack and cough everywhere but into his sleeve.

 

“He doesn’t really seem like the type to do that though. He’s an honest man,” Jongin’s empathy bubbles inside his chest. How could Minseok so freely disclose such information about their friend?

 

“I know! That’s what makes it so funny!”

 

At this, Jongin attempts to assure himself that it is only the alcohol talking. This ugly side to his senior is only coming out because of the alcohol. He is a kind, hard working, trustworthy person. This is not Minseok, this is Vodka speaking. Who knows? Maybe the gossip wasn’t true in the slightest. Maybe he got his memories mixed up in different files.

 

The solemn expression on the younger's face strikes curiosity in Minseok.

 

“What’s wrong? You didn’t like that?”

 

“No, Minseok. I didn’t like that,” he banters quietly, stroking Kyungsoo’s hair in deep deliberation.

 

A few heavy sniffles come from his oldest friend and suddenly he resembles Jongdae with snot on his cheeks and tears springing forth from his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, Jonginnie!I thought you would find it hilarious! I’m sorry!”

 

“It’s okay, Minseok. Just don’t tell anyone else that, okay?”

 

“Okay, I promise!”

 

“Thank you,” Jongin sighs tiredly and rubs his palm against his forehead.

 

“Oh no! Chanyeol, Chanyeol! Jongin hates me! Little Jonginnie hates me! He doesn’t want to be friends anymore! What do I do, Chanyeol? I don’t know what to do!”

 

Chanyeol, from the floor, holds a glass in hand as he shrugs noncommittally.

 

“No, no, no, Minseok! I don’t hate you, alright?” Jongin does his best not to roll his eyes at the other’s hypersensitive, alcohol-induced personality.

 

“You don’t?”

 

“Of course I don’t.”

 

“Can I say sorry?”

 

“You already did.”

 

“Will you forgive me if I tell you a secret?”

 

“Minseok, I don’t want you to tell me a secret.”

 

“But Jongin,” the barista begs with a glint in his eye. “It’s about Kyungsoo.”

 

Immediately, Jongin is interested.

 

“Kyungsoo?”

 

“Yes, Kyungsoo.”

 

While provoked, Jongin knows that it couldn’t be anything too serious. They tell each other practically everything… or at least, they _used_ to. The irk to uncover whatever truth Minseok is hiding almost overwhelms him, but Jongin was always a trooper. He remains strong enough to resist.

 

“No, Minseok. If Kyungsoo doesn’t want me to know, there must be a good reason for that. I respect his wishes, and I would like it if you could as well.”

 

“But, Jonginnie. It’s important for you to find out!”

 

“I won’t say it again, Minseok. If he doesn’t want me to know, I don’t want to know.” Jongin persists, but only the reasonable side of himself genuinely wants to coerce him into not blurting Kyungsoo's secret out.

 

“I don’t care, I’m telling you! You have to know!”

 

“Minseok, don’t do it.”

 

The rest of the company and the newscasters on television announce the countdown.

 

“Ten!”

 

“Jonginnie, I’m sorry. But-”

 

“Nine!”

 

“You should know that-”

 

“Eight!”

 

Jongin’s heart palpitates in his chest, squeezing itself silly.

 

“Seven!”

 

“That Kyungsoo, he-”

 

“Six!”

 

Suddenly sick to his stomach at the possibilities, Jongin no longer wants to know.

 

“Five!”

 

His final plea, “Minseok, please no.”

 

“Four!”

 

“Jonginnie, he’s-”

 

“Three!”

 

In some kind of last attempt to shield himself from his horror, Jongin flattens his palms against his ears.

 

“Two!”

 

“I’m sorry, Jongin, but-”

 

“One!”

 

“Kyungsoo is cheating on you.”

 

“Happy new year!”

 

Confetti cannons attached to strings are popped every which way, horns are honked at different deafening volumes, and people holler and shout their celebratory phrases.

 

All this commotion, yet Jongin only hears Minseok’s statement.

 

The first thing he thinks to do is deny it.

 

There’s no way the love of his life would betray him so horridly like that; it’s impossible! They’re on their way to being engaged, happy as ever! This is just another drunken lie! Jongin isn’t stupid enough to believe such a sickening sentence. He loves Kyungsoo with his heart and soul, and Kyungsoo loves him back just as powerfully - if not surpassing Jongin. He promised so many things on Valentine’s Day last year! They are fated to be together for life and more! Simple as that.

 

But then he regrettably recalls their turbulent summer months. The nights he wept alone with only the company of moonlight and empty sheets. The numerous times he was shut down with the flimsy excuse of work. The flippant wave of a hand to brush his sentiment and concern off every time he would try to initiate gentle sensuality between them.

 

A sob racks Jongin’s body.

 

Who was it?

 

Was it one person? Two?

 

When did it start?

 

Did the proposal mean nothing?

 

Was he just a puppet to be discarded?

 

Does Kyungsoo love him?

 

Was he not enough?

 

Question after question is shot at Jongin’s crowded mind with a military-class machine gun.

 

Somewhere in the background, he can vaguely decipher Minseok blubbering apologies that don’t reach his heart.

 

For the first time, Jongin wishes he were drunk.

 

Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt as much.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

160109

 

Nine days into 2016 and Jongin can already expect the other 356 to be exceptionally shitty.

 

From the moment he could comprehend words, the importance of trust was drilled into his mind. Trust is what structures bonds, what forges them, and what preserves them. His entire life is centered around three solid principles: integrity, citizenship, and trust. Those characteristics all weave into one, creating the basis for a functional person, not only as an individual but as an addition to society. These past twenty-one soon twenty-two years have proved the theory realistic in most aspects. Jongin had been performing well until an outer force interrupted the sequence. Sometimes things go wrong that are out of one’s power, things like an unforeseen case of betrayal. Because for the whole of his existence, Jongin relied on his strong morals to carry him through the flames of life unscathed. But because Minseok planted the seedling of doubt in his thoughts, he suddenly can’t even trust even the one he would give his life for.

 

It feels like treason, being unable to have faith in Kyungsoo just because of an intoxicated roustabout. In the six years they’ve been acquainted, nothing could ever deter Jongin’s belief in the goodness of Kyungsoo’s heart. Not when he exchanged crude conversation with Baekhyun about bypassers on the street. Not when he knocked Chanyeol upside the head for being a dumbass. Not even when he delivered envious fists to Sehun’s face. Not once did his trust in the elder ever waver. So why, just because someone claimed it to be fact, does he begin to question his fiance’s loyalty?

 

Jongin will admit the temptation to confirm his doubts has been powerful. But just that could devastate their already tattered-beneath-the-surface relationship. What if Minseok was mistaken? What if it wasn’t true? Not only would Kyungsoo detest him for his profound hypocrisy and ignorance to their pillars of love, but he would resent himself for being so utterly gullible and foolish. The pros are heavily outweighed by the cons, and frankly, Jongin doesn’t think taking the trepidatious chance is worth it.

 

But perhaps Kyungsoo would understand where he’s coming from. He’s sure the other knows the struggle, if their June argument stands for anything. If Minseok was wrong, then this would just be another milestone to overcome. It would simply be a small bump in the half-paved road to a better, committed future.

 

On top of Jongin’s back-breaking internal drama, his classic literature teacher decided it was prime time for an essay analysis on some remote paperback book from the 1800’s. For Heaven’s sake, everyone literally just returned to the university a few days back when winter break concluded. But no, it is completely reasonable to a certain pea-brained professor. And of course brilliant minds must think alike, so a couple of his other minor classes have mandated highlighted pages upon pages of neatly scripted notes of him. It’s simply unacceptable, and he’s got zero tolerance for it.

 

Good thing Chanyeol has taken up working at the drug store again, or he would’ve come to bother him.

 

The sound of solid rhythmic thumps against wood are close to hypnotizing.

 

“Fuck this, I just want to fall asleep and never wake up.

 

Too much work.

 

Too many emotions.

 

I can’t keep up.”

 

He rests his weary eyes, breathing deep and counting the seconds before he releases.

 

Inhale.

 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

 

Exhale.

 

Jongin offhandedly wonders how much farther he can push it.

 

Inhale.

 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twe-

 

Choke.

 

The dancer chides himself for being stupid as he hacks away, coughing up nothing and fighting for air in his lungs.

 

_Is this what it’s like to drown?_

 

An abstract thought.

 

_I wonder._

 

On the wooden chair under him, he sprawls his arms and legs out and lets them fall as if they had no structure. He tilts his head on a diagonal axis backwards and slowly shuts his eyes.

 

Pale moonlight cradles the surface of the water, a shimmering contrast to the lifeless black realm Jongin sinks into. He muses that capturing a sample of that pretty glow in his hands would be quite poetic, and outstretches his arm to do just that. But he can never seem to get a grip on it. It keeps slipping away as he plummets farther and farther beneath the skin of silver; teasing his fingertips with kisses, then rushing off.

 

Somewhere in the void of sound below the ocean, a voice seeps into his ears - a comforting whisper.

 

_Just let go._

 

_Let go._

 

_Let go._

 

_Let go._

 

_I’ll catch you._

 

_“Catch… me.”_

 

His eyes remain shut, as visions of obsidian floods behind his lids.

 

_“Catch me.”_

 

Next thing Jongin knows, he’s free falling into a pit of depths whose peripheries can rival that of many horizons. From what he can decipher, sediments and minerals mixed into clay form boundless walls of rock that surround his downward venture. His heart is not racing a grand stallion, and he is astonishingly at ease for someone plunging straight to collision. The lick of wind tickles his neck and ears, cradling him in wispy limbs and divulging another message.

 

_Take my hand._

 

_Take it._

 

_Take it._

 

_Take it._

 

_I’ll save you._

 

 _“That,” a_ hushed tone comes out plausibly. _“That sounds nice.”_

 

The next abyss he transitions to is a quiet meadow, scaped with peonies and tulips and daisies and irises and bluebells of all lands. It’s a quaint little place with a clear cerulean sky high above. Aromas of vernal blooms and flowing grass relax his body and mind even further. He hears no voice this time, but instead the chirping of birds and chattering of nearby animals. From far off in the distance, a gentle melody lifts his soul. His deltoids ache with a dull sting, and wings cut themselves out in sprouts from them. The feathers allow him to float leagues into the Sun, gentle beams crooning his tanned body. He notices he sports a pure white toga, and gasps in awe of it.

 

_“But what do I do now?”_

 

Jongin stands by patiently for a voice to guide him.

 

All alone, he drifts around.

 

_“Hello? Please tell me what to do!”_

 

In a flash, the Sun is dyed a scorching scarlet and the vast blue of the sky is tainted an ominous mahogany.

 

The change in the weather is anything but discreet, what with the howls of wind bursting past him. Rain begins to pour in torrential amounts. The birds no longer sing, but instead screech of their agony in horrifying shrills. Panic is rising inside and the soft of his down is plucked away by the gusting wind with every heavy breath he heaves.

 

_“What’s going on? Help!”_

 

_Not this time._

 

_It’s your turn._

 

_“But please! I don’t know what to do! I’m going to fall!”_

 

_Thunder claps from somewhere a half-mile above him. The crack of lightning follows and strikes the terrain not too far from his suspended position in the air._

 

_You’re alright._

 

_Trust yourself._

 

_Trust._

 

_Trust._

 

_Trust._

 

Jongin’s eyes are squeezed shut, tears welling up.

 

_“I can’t do it!”_

 

But his guide is long gone.

 

_“Please!”_

 

He gasps, awoken from his imagination. His mouth hangs wide open as he fights to swallow down a breath. His hands are clammy, perspiring and raw.

 

_Trust yourself._

 

The anxiety has never hit so hard in all of his lifetime.

 

Clarity has been shown to Jongin in his dreams and his nightmare. Strangely symbolic, they have forced him to come to the stark understanding that confrontation is the only way to go about this, this dire situation that no longer can be denied.

 

It’s the right decision.

 

At least, that’s what he spends the following hours convincing his heart in a single motionless spot on the couch with tears stroking his face and a weak will to keep himself together.

 

So why is it when Kyungsoo steps through the front door all haggard and limping, he can’t muster enough courage to work things out?

 

Not yet noticing the top-notch tension, the barista lets his jacket fall off his shoulders onto the ground. He rolls his neck a few times to relieve the tautness in his muscles. A low groan is his response to the tight strain. It isn’t long before eyes sweep across Jongin in the black blanket of night shadows. Why he had abstained from switching on the lamp is not a conjecture that plagues him.

 

Luckily for Jongin, Kyungsoo is the one that initiates the conversation with a nonchalant, “Hey, Nini. How was your day, love?”

 

The younger inwardly cringes at how smoothly the L word rolls off his tongue, as if he has said it millions of times over - enough for it to lose its once awe inspiring relevance.

 

It is in silent seconds later that he remembers he possesses a fully capable voice to reply to the question and coughs awkwardly.

 

“I-It was alright, I guess.”

 

“That’s great,” Kyungsoo smiles and takes a seat next to him on the couch. “I see you were working at those pesky assignments today.”

 

His answer is curt.

 

“I was.”

 

“I feel for you, baby. Don’t they know you’ve got a life outsi-”

 

The moment the older tries to twirl his fingers into his, Jongin flinches away.

 

Oh, that wasn’t obvious.

 

Instantly the guilt crashes into him with as much impact as that of a 16-wheeler.

 

The downward pull at the corners of Kyungsoo’s lips establishes a profound state of unease in Jongin. His apprehension is reflected in the accelerated breaths that evoke his lungs to cry in ail. He hassles to reclaim the pressure-broken jar of emotions and thoughts and doubts and issues and pain that have now freed themselves into his inner state of mind. It now seems that everything has fallen apart while simultaneously becoming clearer.

 

Alert, Kyungsoo makes to encompass the other in an attempt to compose him.

 

“Jongin! What’s wrong?”

 

He again jolts away from the contact, eyes growing wide.

 

“I-I’m!”

 

Words jumble themselves in mismatched cliques and they refuse to be heard in anything but an incomprehensible manner.

 

At some point, Jongin backs himself against a wall and slides to his haunches.

 

The world is caving in. The lack of oxygen is causing the edges of his sight to go dark.

 

“Hey, stay with me! Are you alright? What do you want me to do?”

 

Kyungsoo advances, gaining ground imminently nearer to Jongin while the younger shakes with fear.

 

“St-Stay away!”

 

Thoroughly startled, he draws back the tiniest bit.

 

“Stay away?”

 

“I’m sorry, K-Kyungsoo. But please, don’t come any c-closer!”

 

“Why? You’re five seconds away from a panic attack! How am I supposed to stand by?”

 

“No, you don’t understand! I just need a minute to calm d-down.”

 

The concerned crease of his brows trips Jongin up even more, and he sobs harder into his sleeve.

 

Minutes pass and eventually he is able to mold himself together.

 

“Jongin?” Kyungsoo treads hesitantly. “Are you…”

 

One last breath, and Jongin is in a state rational enough to handle this civilly. His cheeks are still damp, his eyes are quite reddened, but he is ready to face this like a man.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Kyungsoo is crestfallen. Never before has Jongin denied his touch so adamantly. What could have possibly happened to make him so sensitive in such a short period of time? Did someone hurt him? The prospect sends chills down his spine, and he quivers in anger. If anyone laid their filthy hands on _his_ piece of Heaven-

 

“Soo, we need to talk.”

 

Fuck.

 

Kyungsoo feels the creeping cold blood in his veins.

 

Something is wrong, something is _very_ wrong.

 

“You know I trust you, right?”

 

There it is.

 

After all, no one can hide forever.

 

Is there even a use in putting up a mask?

 

Kyungsoo turns away to hide his shame from the younger, “Yes. I know you trust me.”

 

“And you know the extent of my love?”

 

“I do.”

 

Jongin stands to feel stronger, but his heart is pounding wildly to its own rapid beat.

 

“Then, you know how imperative it is that I figure things out? You’ll understand that I need to fix some things?”

 

“Please, Jongin. Let’s get to the point,” Kyungsoo stumbles over words, remorse and extreme regret denying his ability to speak. Who knew it would be so hard? Times spent with Yifan were always so easy to indulge in, but why is it so difficult to own up to it now?

 

The elder squares up to the other.

 

It’s nothing short of _frigid_ in the air.

 

“Kyungsoo,” he prepares himself for the blow. “Are you cheating on me?”

 

Silence.

 

The question sounds so much worse in person than it ever did in the recesses of Kyungsoo’s mind. He never took into consideration how devastated Jongin would be; never thought about how his head would droop, how his eyes would squeeze shut with tears, how his body would be trembling. No, Kyungsoo never once dreamt up how insubordinate Jongin would feel to both his fiance and himself for merely ruminating the possibility. Though pledging full understanding of Jongin’s affection for him, he never expertly realised how deep it runs. Even now it seems as if the younger is struggling to believe Kyungsoo could break his vows of friendship, of love, of trust. Jongin carries so much faith, and he’s gone and hammered it into less than microscopic atoms.

 

The dead atmosphere ironically amplifies every emotion that presents itself, peeking out from the curtains of each person’s heart.

 

No one truly desires to take the initiative of the inevitable and pour themselves out, vulnerable for the other to see. However, Jongin feels obligated, yielding to that fact that he’d been the one to bring up the topic.

 

He laments and reluctantly clamps his hand around Kyungsoo’s, ensconcing them both at the table. None too ambiguously, the mere yard in between their seats feels like a boundary wide as the Sahara. They’ve never been so estranged from each other while remaining in the same capacity.

 

Jongin reinforces himself with steel and scaffolds around his heart, and braves a look at Kyungsoo, who follows.

 

When dulled, yet hopeful eyes meet sullen and sorrowful, the revolutionary happens. Two people in galaxies alienated from each other suddenly collide and reunite for the first time in ages. With just one gaze, it’s as if the last few months never took place and they were back in their honeymoon phase; in love and at peace. But time doesn’t let itself be taken hold of, time doesn’t regulate itself to concede with anyone else’s benefit. Actions cannot be revoked, and unfortunately for the couple, they’re light years beyond the point of no return.

 

“Listen,” Jongin starts. “Please, please, please don’t take this as me dishonoring my trust in you. It’s just that I… I heard some things from someone, and it was so parallel with our issues and distance that went on after the showcase. I thought about how alone I was when you began to work; about how worthless and tossed aside I felt, and it provoked the connection. You dealt with that same loneliness - probably even magnified - almost a month prior to our dispute. Why wouldn’t you stray? Besides the security of our love and future marriage, I couldn’t brainstorm anything else.

 

If you take the time to l-look at it like I have, things really do line up, K-Kyungsoo!

 

But I am passionately hoping, praying to every deity out there even, that this is just some gimmick that I was too gullible to believe for just a short second.

 

I know our love is strong enough to withstand infidelity.

 

So please, tell me I’m mistaken.”

 

By this time, all the restraints Jongin was able to so courageously maintain had more than loosened.

 

The invincible charade vanishes. His head is in his hands as ugly sobs strike his throat and lungs discordantly. Shuddering overtakes his entire body as the realisation that Kyungsoo’s silence must mean something hits.

 

“P-Please, say something. Anything!”

 

His heart is shriveling under the lick of fire, and he doesn’t know how much more he can shoulder.

 

Relenting, Kyungsoo throws his hands up.

 

“Yes, I did! I’m sorry, okay!”

 

The last of Jongin’s lingering endurance wane into nothing.

 

Air catches in his throat and again he senses another black out instigated by nerves and superior stress.

 

He is downright shell-shocked.

 

Almost six years, for nothing?

 

“Y-You-”

 

He finds extreme difficulty in spitting anything at all out.

 

Nothing is going right.

 

It’s all gone.

 

A fist smashes itself onto the table as Jongin stands, knocking the chair off its legs.

 

“How could you?”

 

“Jongin, I-”

 

“What the fuck were you thinking? Kyungsoo, what the fuck?”

 

He grasps the older’s shirt in handfuls of bunched fabric.

 

“Let me explain!”

 

“What is there to explain? What could you possibly tell me that would justify this disgrace?”

 

Kyungsoo is rendered voiceless.

 

“That’s what I thought,” he sneers and throws the other back.

 

“Jongin…”

 

“Fuck! I’m so fucking stupid!”

 

“J-”

 

“No! I don’t want to hear it! Stop trying to save yourself!”

 

Jongin’s doing his best not to heave all over the table, but the words don’t stop spilling out. His mouth is on auto-pilot now.

 

“This last month, you made sure I was the most delighted I had been in a while!

 

What was that? Was it a lie?

Shit, were you even going to tell me? Or was your plan to just let me find put on my own?

 

I could have gone another year without knowing, you dick! A year! I would have gotten married to you while you were sleeping behind my back!

 

Remind me to thank Minseok for saving my dignity. Without his fucking drunk ass, I’d still be your joke of a side bitch.”

 

Stunned silent, Kyungsoo crumples to the ground.

 

“How could you? I can’t believe this!”

 

Jongin laughs bitterly, currents rushing off his cheeks.

 

“I wonder how many times you’ve fucked me over right in front of my face. Wasn’t it fun? Telling me you love me, then playing around somewhere else?

 

Do Kyungsoo, I have loved you for almost a fourth of my life! I worked my ass off to impress you. I sacrificed my other friends to spend time with you. I devoted my soul to you! This is what I get in return?

 

That fucking Oh Sehun was right about you.”

 

Finally running out of fuel for the time being, Jongin simmers down.

 

“I’m sorry, Jongin! I’m truly sorry.

 

I don’t know why I did it, but I love you!

 

I love you more than anyone could ever love anyone else!”

 

Jongin growls, “Stop lying to me, you bastard.”

 

“I’m not lying!”

 

“Well then, how am I supposed to believe you? You think that after having my trust so destructively strewn to bits, I would believe this mockery?”

 

“I never lied about loving you! I never did!”

 

“Kyungsoo, shut up! Don’t you get it? There is nothing you can do to fix this! You can’t patch up the damage you’ve done and call it good! You’re not a magician, and even if you were, there wouldn’t have been a single thing you could say or do to resolve this. It’s simply unforgiveable.”

 

He gives him one last glare and heads to their room.

 

“What are you doing?” Kyungsoo gasps, running after him.

 

When he reaches the bedroom, Jongin almost faints.

 

Their once santuary appears filthy in his mind. What sins have taken place here?

 

“No, Jongin. Please don’t do this!”

 

He shuffles around restlessly, searching everywhere for a duffle bag big enough for a week’s refuge at Junmyeon’s. His door is always open, and there’s no better place he can think of to get away from this Garden of Gesthemene teeming with ruined memories.

 

“We can talk about it, please!”

 

“We could have talked about it a long time ago, and perhaps we would have been fine,” Jongin shades as he stuffs his necessities in the bag.

 

Everything feels so unfamilar.

 

Boy, does this hurt like Hell.

 

Jongin marches his way out to the front foyer.

 

The wavering in his heart threatens to make him drop that damned luggage, run back into Kyungsoo’s arms, and forgive him. But with his last resolution, he steeles himself and coughs out, “You should have thought about what you were doing a long time ago.”

 

“I know, and I’m so-”

 

“Cry to yourself about it.”

 

Jongin shoves his beloved promise ring off his finger, doing his best not to cry again.

 

“Here’s your fucking ring. Sell it and pay everyone their share back. You won’t be needing it anymore.”

 

“Jongin!”

 

“I’ll be back sometime soon to gather the rest of my things, but it will be arranged at a time you won’t be here.”

 

“No, please…”

 

“Kyungsoo, think real hard about what you’ve done.”

 

“Jongin…”

 

The door is opened and Kyungsoo’s eyes widen in utmost panic.

 

“Jongin, please! We can work this out! Please, I love you!”

 

“If you love me, you’ll let me go.”

 

And he’s gone.

 

Jongin walks out of Kyungsoo’s life with his head held high, but inside, his heart is crying.

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

February 14, 2016 ー

To My Love

 

_Kim Jongin,_

 

_How does one write a sincere apology, a poem of the past, and a profession of love all in one journal entry? I wouldn’t know, but you would. You would somehow find a way to piece them all together in one beautifully scripted essay of sorts. You would tell me which format to lay it out in, which vocabulary to use with the tone of the passage. Hell, you would probably even tell me which pen would print the words best. You would do all that and more, and you would do it because you loved me._

 

_One year ago today, I drove you to an open meadow and sat you down in the middle of its expanse. As you settled comfortably on the picnic blanket I draped out for the two of us, I stood back and admired how the purples and pinks of the sky reflected off your skin. They captured you in an ethereal frame, highlighting your natural beauty, and I could only stand there like an idiot and adore you. How was it that someone could look so breathtakingly gorgeous without doing a thing? Through your lashes, you gazed at the sunset over the horizon. It was the look in your eyes that confirmed it: I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you._

 

_As it would happen, not everything goes to plan. At my own hands, the very hands that held you to an eternity, our relationship was brought to cruel destruction. I don’t wish to relive the time, so I will simply tell you this: I never stopped loving you. Of all the lies I told, or more the promises I broke, the biggest was saying that I had lost the love I felt for you. I psyched myself into thinking I was truly satisfied with him, when in reality I only got caught up in the rush of things. I was never happy. I was in a bad place, and I lost both myself and you in the midst of it._

 

_I’d like to thank you. For almost six years, you were the one who knew me best. You were there at both my highs and lows. You were the shoulder I cried on, the rock that grounded me, the sustenance that nourished me. You were everything I could have asked for and more. Don’t ever think of yourself as inadequate, because Lord knows you are anything but._

 

_In your honor I’d like to dedicate a poem to you by Edgar Allan Poe. I still remember the first time we went to Barnes and Noble together and his complete collection was on sale. You looked at me and said, “Soo, if you were a poet, you’d be Poe. Dark and depressing, but also deep and intelligent.” Despite you practically naming me Emo Overlord of the literature world, I was flattered. And so, I have selected Evening Star to regard you._

 

_‘Twas noontide of summer,_

_And mid-time of night,_

_And stars, in their orbits,_

_Shone pale, thro’ the light_

_Of the brighter, cold moon,_

_‘Mid planets her slaves,_

_Herself in the Heavens,_

_Her beam on the waves._

_I gaz’d awhile_

_On her cold smile;_

_Too cold -- too cold for me --_

_There pass’d, as a shroud,_

_A fleecy cloud,_

_And I turn’d away to thee,_

_Proud Evening Star,_

_In thy glory afar,_

_And dearer thy beam shall be;_

_For joy to my heart_

_Is the proud part_

_Thou bearest in Heav’n at night,_

_And more I admire_

_Thy distant fire,_

_Than that colder, lowly light._

 

_I guess this is it, baby... Fuck, I miss you. I thought I could keep it together, but I’m failing. I can’t live without you, love. I’m drowning in nothing but my own mind. I constantly live in a state of suffocation that doesn’t seem to want to budge at all. Is this how life is going to be from now on? You trusted me and I gave it all up. I gave up Heaven’s most renowned angel. I fucked up, I fucked it all up. I understood that as soon as the door slammed shut the day you left. I can’t do this anymore._

 

_I ended it with him the week after you ended it with me. I couldn’t take seeing him and being reminded of all my sins against you. I’m working on repenting. Doesn’t it count for anything? Come back to me. Come back, Jongin. I love you, so come back. Please, come back._

 

_You’re never going to read this, are you? I’m so helplessly stupid. But if there’s one thing you should understand above all else is that I love you._

 

_I love you._

 

_And I will never stop loving you._

 

_Yours and Only Yours,_

_Do Kyungsoo_

 

 

 

×××××

 

 

 

January 27th, 2016 ー

Untitled

Entry Five

 

Philophobia, the fear of falling in love.

 

Many claim to have it, just as many claim to be depressed. It has over time become romanticized to the point where it’s not even ironic anymore. Young teens parade around saying they are scared to fall in love, simply for the sake of being aesthetic or grunge. To take a stand, this will speak for those whose voices have been shouted over by such people.

 

Writers often have clouded judgment of love. Years of telling tales of how love destroys people in the worst ways have jaded them. To get to know their characters better, they put themselves in their shoes and live their lives. Not only do they deliver the heartbreak, they suffer through it. It is this that closes them off. They are aware of just what horror could ensue if they were to love the days away. The very thought of placing their happiness in another’s hands is terrifying. Giving someone else the very power to destroy your entire being, that comes with loving someone. The risk is too great, and often people give up on it altogether.

 

I once defied the fear in my heart and fell in beautiful love with a man who I believe could lift the Sun and part the sea.

 

I used to believe in love and all its good points.

 

By now, that’s gone and died out.

 

Memories are just painful reminders of the past.

 

Dreams are meager hopes shattered by his hand.

 

Trust. What happened to it?

 

Loving can hurt, and perhaps I’ll never love again.

 


End file.
